


The Marauders and the Altar of the Moon

by GJayCad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21570754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GJayCad/pseuds/GJayCad
Summary: Remus Lupin is no ordinary boy. Bitten by a werewolf at a young age, he and his family have had to keep his condition a secret from everyone around them. Suddenly he is given the chance to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A chance to make real friends and have a normal life. Remus Lupin might be a werewolf, but he is still a wizard.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 12





	1. The Boy Who Survived

Healer Wilde, of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, was having what could be described as a difficult night. It was the sort of night that would have had him praying for a quiet moment to himself, if he’d had the time to pray. Unfortunately, such luxuries were not always a possibility, especially on nights like this.  
Wilde had been dashing around like a mad-man. From floor to floor, from ward to ward, dealing with, what seemed to be, every conceivable magical problem under the sun. First, he had been on the Fourth Floor, dealing with a man who had somehow managed to transfigure his head into a kettle. When asked what spell he had tried to perform, he had been able only to let out a high-pitched whistle and a cloud of pinkish steam. He had left Healer Rushe dealing with that after he had been called down to the Second Floor, to the Herbert Wells Ward, to deal with a nasty case of vanishing sickness that had been making a woman’s legs disappear and reappear every time she had tried to take a step.  
Something close to what could be called a rest had come a couple of hours after that when he had been called to the Ground Floor to help with the recovery of a man who had crashed his broomstick, but that had not lasted long.  
Before the man had been back on his feet, he’d been summoned back up to the Fourth Floor where a young wizard named Mundungus Fletcher had been waiting with his nose on the wrong side of his head, stubbornly refusing to say who had cursed him or why.  
Yes, Wilde thought as he performed the spells needed to correct Fletcher’s problem, it had been a difficult night.  
And the worrying thing was that nights like this were becoming more and more frequent. Things had been happening lately, in the wizarding world as well as the muggle world, and not just things like noses in the wrong place or transfigurations gone wrong. There had been nasty things. Those two muggle girls who’d been found dead in the middle of Birmingham, looking as if they’d been savaged by a wild animal. The sudden disappearances of the leaders of the squib rights groups. Farms in the west country had been ravaged by freak storms, bridges and buildings that had seemed perfectly sound had suddenly crumbled or fallen down. And now there was this loony in the Daily Prophet, this Volde-something-or-other, calling for the wizards to rise up and take their rightful place above the muggles.  
Wilde made an impatient noise. There were enough problems in the world at the moment without encouraging that kind of nonsense.  
He’d just finished sorting out Fletcher’s nose, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was to stay there and wait for the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol or else Wilde would put the nose right back where it had been, ‘And you just see if I won’t,’ when he felt a heat coming from the pocket of his robes.  
Closing his eyes, he reached in and pulled out his Caller.  
The Caller had been a recent invention in the hospital, a way of calling Healers from ward to ward without the need to use owls. They had come after the administrators had decided that changes had to be made due to the bird droppings that were covering the hospital corridors. They were, in truth, nothing more than small metal bars enchanted with a Protean Charm. All a healer had to do was arrange the letters on their Caller into the name of the ward where help was needed, speak the names of the healers they wanted and the Callers in the pockets of those healers would warm up and show the same ward name. They had proved very useful.  
At that moment, however, Healer Wilde was privately wishing that the administrators had never thought up the bloody things.  
He opened his eyes and looked down. He felt his stomach sink.  
No. Not again. Not this.  
But the writing on the bar was clear as day. Second Floor, Dai Llewellyn Ward.  
It had been two months since the last attack. He had half hoped that that had been the last of them.  
It had been two last time. Two in the same night. Seren Jones and Elanor Abbott. Two little girls. It had been Seren’s fourth birthday. Elanor had been five. Two girls from the same town, their houses not far apart. They had been having a sleepover, if he recalled correctly, a special birthday sleepover. That had been what Seren’s mother had said, tears coursing down her face as she said. Seren’s father and Elanor’s mother had just stood there, faces like painted stone. They had had nothing to say, but what could be said?  
He remembered looking down on their faces. Seren’s pale blonde hair stained almost completely red by the blood while Elanor had just looked up at him. There had been an emptiness in those eyes. They had been eyes that had seen too much far too young.  
Wilde looked at his watch as he headed down the stairs to the second floor. The sun would be up by now. Both girls had made it, by some miracle, as had the one who had come before them. They now lived in the hospital until their parents could sort things out at home, a way to deal with what they were now.  
He was turning into the corridor that led to the ward when he saw Healers Henn, Bakshi and Rushe pushing the three beds back into the Dai Llewellyn Ward. He could see the beds’ occupants. All of them looked exhausted but still breathing.  
Satisfied with that, Wilde ran into the ward, his attention immediately going to the new bed in the room. One healer was already there and the three who had just arrived were going to join her. He caught Healer Rushe’s eye.  
‘Was it…is it…?’ He did not feel able to finish the question. But Rushe knew what he meant. Sadly, she nodded her head. Wilde swore loudly.  
It had been him again. That same, blood thirsty, evil scumbag.  
Wilde looked down at the bed. It was a boy this time, no older than six. It was exactly what he’d expected, and what he’d hoped he wouldn’t find. The healers around the bed were abuzz with activity. Time was not on their side, they knew, and they needed to act fast. Wands were out and were moving carefully over the boy as all of them intoned spells that sounded half incantation, half song. Wilde stood outside the group. He felt frozen. He knew he should join the rest of them, but he had to know something first, he just did not know how to ask.  
‘How?’ was all he could bring himself to say. Rushe opened her mouth but seemed unable to answer. He could see tears welling in her eyes. He could hardly blame her.  
He’d see a lot of bad things in his years at St. Mungo’s. Irreversible curses, splinchings, not to mention the things he’d seen in this very ward. Victims of dragon and manticore attacks among the other wild and dangerous animals that still roamed free in the countryside. But this was something else. This wasn’t the random attacks of a wild animal. These attacks were deliberate, they had been planned. And to inflict this on children.  
Healer Henn gave the explanation. To the casual observer, the senior healer appeared to be unfazed by all of this but Wilde had been in the hospital, and had known Healer Henn long enough, to be able to see the subtle clues in his face that gave away his true feelings. The truth was, this bothered and upset Henn as much as the rest of them, he’d just had more practice hiding his emotions.  
‘Window of the bedroom was forced open,’ Henn said, his voice sharp and clinical as usual, ‘the parents were downstairs and heard the noise. But by the time they got up there, they were too late.’  
‘Was it…Him again?’ Wilde did not want to give name to the attacker. Names, in his opinion, were things that people had. And the thing that had done this, he looked around at the other beds in the ward, had done these things, was not a person. It was a monster.  
Henn’s mouth curled into something close to a snarl.  
‘Yeah,’ he seemed to be forcing the words out, ‘it was him. It was Greyback.’  
Greyback. The name hit the air like a disgusting swearword. It was a name that had been in the Daily Prophet more often than the Pure Blood supremacist of late. A name connected to one of the biggest man-hunts of recent memory.  
Wilde still remembered the first time he had seen the name in the paper. “MINISTRY INCOMPETANCE LETS WOLF RUN FREE” had been the headline.  
Greyback had been brought into the Ministry in connection with the deaths of two muggle girls. But, having no wand nor wizarding record, he had passed himself off as a muggle tramp brought in by mistake. Only one from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had recognised him for what he was and called for his arrest. The rest of questioning committee had not believed him, however, and had released him.  
It had been just as they were about to wipe the “muggle’s” memory that Greyback had broken free and escaped the Ministry and had since been on the run. He’d been racking up quite the body count since then. Almost every full moon, a new victim had been brought in. All of them children.  
Henn fixed Wilde with a piercing stare.  
‘If you’re finished daydreaming,’ he snapped, ‘we need your help with this!’  
Wilde snapped to attention. What was wrong with him? There was a boy here in desperate need and he was dwelling on the past. He whipped his wand out and joined the others.  
They worked. And they worked. Weaving enchantments over enchantments, charm over charm. Everything they could do, everything they had done with the others, everything that should have worked.  
But sometimes healing was as much luck as it was an art. Sometimes you could do everything right but still fail. Sometimes, the powers that be were just not on your side.  
Healer Henn took a step back, running his fingers through his hair, his wand lying by the boy’s limp hand.  
Every healer had their own way of dealing with things like this, he knew. The hospital did not allow for lengthy mourning. There was always something else that needed doing. Sometimes all a healer could do was close their eyes, take a deep breath and carry on.  
After he’d opened his eyes, Wilde looked at Rushe. Tears were running thickly down her face now, and she was making no effort to hide or cover them.  
‘Call it,’ he told her, flatly. Rushe looked at him before nodding.  
‘Time of death, six twenty-five a.m.,’ she said. She then turned on her heel and moved to the next bed. Elanor was starting to stir.  
Healer Wilde pulled the covers over the boy’s face. He could see the white cotton sheets were staining red. The bite had been to the boy’s right leg, just above the knee. He must have been dragged out of bed. There were more bites and claw marks on the arms and torso. He’d clearly tried to fight back, maybe he’d tried to push his attacker away. The name was on a chart at the bottom of the bed.  
“Shihab Mahmood, age: six.” He was apparently a half blood, witch mother and a muggle father. Wilde wondered when they would arrive and who would have to break the news to them.  
‘You alright?’  
Wilde turned around. Healer Henn was looking at him, his stern eyes full of concern. Wilde heaved another deep breath, trying to steady himself.  
‘Yeah,’ he said, almost meaning it. Henn gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder.  
‘Well,’ he seemed to be trying, and failing, to think of something consoling to say. It seemed there was nothing for he finally turned away, ‘let’s just go check on the ones we could save, eh?’  
Wilde nodded and followed on behind him. Elanor and Seren were both stirring now.  
Despite being awake, they had not moved at all while he and the other healers had been trying to save Shihab. Wilde could hardly blame them. The transformation was a painful one and the body used so much energy, not only to transform but keep it up all night, that it left the victim completely drained the morning after.  
Poor Seren looked as though she’d been forced to run a marathon while Elanor was trying, and failing, to raise her head.  
‘Where’s mum?’ Seren asked Healer Rushe as she was given her breakfast, a bowl of porridge sprinkled with sugar and a bar of chocolate, ‘Is she here? Where’s mum?’  
Healer Rushe looked sadly at the girl. Seren’s mother was having difficulty coming to terms with what her daughter was now. Perhaps she thought that if she pretended it hadn’t happened, then by some magic it would suddenly be so. Wilde sighed with sorrow and irritation. Magic could do a lot of things but sometimes people just had to face reality and deal with what was.  
He moved on to the third bed. The boy in this bed was sat up already and staring morosely at the tray that had been played over his lap. Wilde was a little surprised. The boy had been here longer than Seren and Elanor, of course. He still had the drained, rather ill look of someone who had been through the transformation, it was true, but the past two months he had been in the same state as Elanor and Seren the morning after the full moon.  
It just goes to show, Wilde thought, how little we know of lycanthropy.  
There was no cure. There was no way to treat the condition or ease the transformation. Many werewolves didn’t survive their first transformation. These children were incredibly lucky, relatively speaking. The best St. Mungo’s had been able to do for them is lock them in a secure area during the night of the full moon, crossing their fingers until morning, and then keep the children as comfortable as possible for the rest of the month.  
Wilde sat down in the chair beside the bed. The boy didn’t even seem to notice he was there.  
‘Good morning, Remus,’ he said, in as kind a voice as he could manage.  
Remus Lupin, first living victim of Fenrir Greyback, at least first known living victim, barely gave him a glance before turning a morose gaze back on the tray. It was the same as the other children. Though, while Seren and Elanor were eating the porridge as quickly as it could be spooned to their mouths, Remus had not even moved to pick up his spoon.  
Wilde wondered what was going through the boy’s head. He was barely five years old. It was too much, he thought, far too much for a boy this age to have to deal with.  
He wanted to help. He knew there was not much he could do. Even here, in the hospital, there was nothing he could do to make the boy feel better and when he finally left. Wilde shuddered. He could only begin to imagine the kind of life this poor boy and the other two would have to live.  
He slowly reached out and gently slid the small plate towards Remus.  
‘You should eat the chocolate, at least,’ he told the boy, ‘it will do you good.’  
‘I’m not hungry,’ Remus said. His voice was flat, completely lacking in energy and emotion.  
‘It’s not about hunger,’ Wilde told him, pointedly, ‘it will help.’  
Remus finally looked at the Healer. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again and picked up the bar of chocolate. He looked back at Wilde, who smiled encouragingly.  
‘Eat it,’ he said again, ‘it’ll help. I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit, excuse me.’  
He stood up and went to leave but was stopped by the boy’s voice.  
‘What happened to that boy?’  
It was such a simple question but one that Wilde was not sure he knew how to answer. But, part of the job was making your patients think you knew exactly what you were doing. He turned back to look at Remus with a look that he hoped seemed professional yet sad at the same time.  
‘He was attacked,’ he told Remus. He was not sure why. Remus was a child. He didn’t need to know the details. Yet it seemed to Wilde that, with everything the boy had seen, everything he had been through, there was no point shielding him from things anymore. He had already seen the worst. What more harm could be done?  
Remus was looking over at the bed. The bed on which Shihab's covered body still lay. So still, so small.  
‘Like me?’ Remus asked.  
Wilde could only nod. ‘We couldn’t save him,’ he said. He wanted Remus to know that they had tried. ‘His injuries were too bad.’  
Remus’s eyes were still fixed on the little body, obscured by the bed sheet. ‘Do they know who did it?’ he asked, ‘Are they going to catch him?’  
Wilde felt his stomach clench. Of course, the Ministry knew who’d done it. The same werewolf who had attacked Remus, and they had been trying to capture Greyback since his escape but even now, after months of searching, they had still not been able to find him.  
He wanted to tell the boy all of this. He should know, he surely had a right to know. But he had made a promise. He had to respect that.  
‘They’ll…they’ll certainly try,’ was all he could say. It was not a satisfying answer. Both he and the boy knew it. Remus visibly slumped back against his pillow and took a bite of the chocolate. Wilde thought he saw a little colour return to his cheeks, though perhaps that was just wishful thinking.  
Wilde turned and left Remus to his breakfast. He was out of danger, at least not for another month, and he had other patients he needed to check on before he went home.  
Healer Aisha Bakshi came with him. She was a relatively recent addition to the hospital staff, having arrived in the country about a month previously with her family. She had brought a lot of new things with her to the hospital, cures and remedies from her homeland based in the field of herbalism. She’d faced quite a lot of pushback from the hospital administrators on the use of these remedies, that was until they started working, and working well.  
Now, thanks to her remedies, skin diseases like Spattergroit and Dragonpox were more easily treatable than they had ever been. She and Wilde had formed a good friendship in recent weeks. Maybe more than that, he thought as she fell into step beside him. Their friendly banter had seemed a little more flirtatious of late.  
‘Are you heading home?’ Aisha asked.  
Wilde shook his head. ‘Soon,’ he said, ‘got to check on my patients first.’  
‘Ah yes,’ Aisha nodded, sagely, ‘like your man with the kettle-head?’  
Wilde grunted in the affirmative. ‘It was easy to figure out once he stopped spitting steam long enough to write things down. Apparently, his own kettle was taking too long to boil so he whipped out his wand to try and make it boil faster. This is why you should never try and transfigure with a hot head.’  
Aisha giggled at his little joke and Wilde felt his stomach flutter.  
‘So…did you see the Prophet today?’  
The question was asked with a forced casualness that told Wilde this was something that had been playing on her mind since she had seen it.  
‘No,’ Wilde answered, ‘I’ve been too busy to look at a paper.’  
Aisha was somehow managing to fidget as she walked. Clearly this was something that bothered her.  
‘That man was in there again. The one who calls himself “Voldemort”,’ she tried to put as much contempt as she could onto the last word. Tried and didn’t quite succeed.  
Wilde scoffed, as he did every time he heard the name. Voldemort. The man who had come out of nowhere, preaching the superiority of the wizarding race, of the purity of magical blood and how this purity must be protected at all cost. Load of rot, in his opinion. If wizards hadn’t married muggles, the magical blood would have died out years ago, and anyone who knew anything about biology would know that “maintaining pure blood lines” inevitably led to problems.  
‘You’re not worried about that nutcase, are you?’ Wilde asked, his voice full of real contempt. He had little patience for wizards who thought their blood made them better than others. And as for this man who called himself Voldemort, he must have thought himself something very special to give himself a name like that, Wilde did not believe for a moment that that was his actual name. He’d laugh if it turned out to be something like “John” or “Chris”. ‘A man like that isn’t worth thinking about,’ he went on, ‘he’s just another one making trouble.’  
Aisha looked as if she wanted to believe him. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘my family already gets trouble from the…muggles,’ she phrased the word strangely, apparently they called non-magical people something different where she was from, ‘I don’t know what we’ll do if we start getting harassed by these people too. Only my father is a wizard.’  
Wilde opened the door for them both, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  
‘They’re not going to bother you,’ he said, ‘if this nutter causes too much trouble, the Ministry will take care of him. You won’t have anything to worry about.’  
Aisha turned eyes up to him that were hopeful but not convinced. Their eyes met and Wilde felt that fluttering in his stomach again. He wondered if she had felt the same thing. After a stretch of time that he could not begin to guess at, Aisha turned her gaze aside.  
‘I should go,’ she said, ‘and I think you have someone who needs to talk to you.’  
Aisha turned away and Wilde turned to look back down the corridor.  
He shouldn’t be surprised. She had been here every morning after the full moon. But even so, the sight of her still made him feel like a stone had been dropped into his gut. Besides seeing the children when they were brought in, this was probably the worst part of it; seeing the mixture of hope and despair on the faces of the parents and knowing there was nothing he could do to help.  
‘Healer Wilde.’ Hope Lupin had a soft, almost melodic, voice which had the touch of a Welsh accent. She was a tall woman and very beautiful, with chestnut coloured hair and deep, dark eyes. Wilde could imagine many men getting lost in those eyes, once upon a time. Those eyes were filled with grief now, a pain for what had happened to her son, the secret hope that even now a cure could be found, and the bitterness at the knowledge that such a thing did not exist. ‘How is he?’ Hope asked. Her voice had a strange note to it, a mixture of expectancy and dread over the possibilities.  
Wilde hurried to put her mind at ease. ‘He’s awake,’ he assured her, ‘he’s just having some breakfast. He seems to be handling the…the condition better now.’  
A sad smile crossed Mrs Lupin’s face. ‘I suppose that is a good thing,’ she said, ‘though I hope he doesn’t get too used to it.’  
Wilde took her meaning. Greyback was the sort of werewolf had gotten too used to the condition.  
Wanting to change the subject, Wilde looked around.  
‘Where is your husband, Mrs Lupin?’ he asked. Though she knew about the magical world, Hope Lupin was still a muggle and would have needed her husband, or at least someone magical, to let her in.  
Mrs. Lupin shifted uncomfortably.  
‘He’s still in the reception,’ she said, hesitantly, ‘he heard about the attack last night through his connections at the Ministry…’  
Wilde thought he understood. Lyall Lupin had been the wizard who had recognised Greyback for what he had been and called for his arrest. In his anger, he had shouted that werewolves were “soulless”, “evil” and “deserving nothing but death”. Greyback’s attack on his son had been revenge for those comments, a stroke of cruellest irony.  
‘It always makes him feel guilty, whenever Greyback is involved,’ Mrs Lupin went on, pausing a little over the name of the werewolf, as if just speaking the name took effort, ‘I think he thinks if he had just tried a little harder that day, he would have gone away to Azkaban and then Remus…’ Something caught in her throat. She couldn’t say any more.  
Wilde felt hopeless. What could he say? That Lyall was not to blame? That Greyback was a monster and these attacks and murders lay at his feet, no one else’s? All things he had said before. All things Mrs Lupin and her husband had been told, things they knew. But knowing a thing and believing it are two different things and he knew there was nothing he could say that would make the Lupins believe it.  
Instead he stepped aside and gestured towards the door.  
‘I’m sure he would like to see you,’ he said. Mrs Lupin nodded and forced a smile.  
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I can give him the good news. We’ve managed to sort things out and we’ll be able to take him home as soon as we can get him discharged.’  
‘Oh,’ Wilde said, taken aback, ‘well, that is good news. I’m sure he’ll be happy to get out of here and get back home.’  
Mrs Lupin smiled a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. They both knew what Remus leaving the hospital meant, even if they did not say it. A return to the real world and a life of having to conceal what he was from everyone around them.  
Without another word, Mrs Lupin walked past him. She was almost at the door when Wilde felt he couldn’t hold back the question any longer. ‘Are you ever going to tell him? About Greyback, I mean.’ He had tried to keep his voice calm, he did not want her to think he was berating her or anything yet still, Mrs Lupin froze. For a moment, Wilde worried he’d overstepped the mark but then she sighed and turned to look at him. And there really were tears in her eyes now.  
‘No,’ she said, curtly.  
Try as he might not to, Wilde had to ask. ‘May I ask why not?’  
Mrs Lupin took a deep breath.  
‘I don’t want my son to grow up consumed with tracking down the thing that did this to him,’ she said, ‘you and I both know what his life is likely to be like. I doubt there will be people queuing to give him a job. So, for as long as it is possible, as long as it is within my power, he is going to have a normal life. I can do that, at least, for my son.’  
Wilde opened his mouth, closed it again and simply nodded in understanding. Without another word, Hope turned and opened the door to the ward while he turned on his heel and walked away. Remus’s discharge would be a job for the healers on day duty. If they could get it sorted out today, there was a chance he would not see the boy again. He certainly hoped that would be the case.  
‘Good luck, Remus,’ he murmured as he turned the corner and headed in the direction of the admin office, his green robes swishing around his ankles.  
The work went on in St. Mungo’s as the morning sun climbed into the sky. In every ward on every floor, treatments were performed and cures were given, whether they were enchantments, counter-curses or something as simple as a herbal remedy and bed rest. And on the first floor, in the Dai Llewellyn Ward, Hope sat with her son, holding him in her arms, trying not to look at the little body being carried out of the ward, and thanked any power that was listening that Remus Lupin had survived.


	2. Cages and Crystal

Nearly six years had passed since the Lupins had brought their son back from hospital to their family home. But the small house on Princes Avenue had hardly changed at all. Cars still drove slowly past, up and down the narrow road between King Edward Avenue and Warren Drive. The pale sun reflected in the windows of the houses as it lit up the hills that rose over the town, into the rich green of late spring. A similar sun had shone the day the Lupins had arrived home. Beams of light shining into the living room, just as they did now, highlighting the flecks of dust that swirled through the air. Only the photographs on the wall really showed how much had changed, for none of them showed a young boy named Remus Lupin. Nor, in fact, did they show Lyall or his wife Hope, for the Lupins had not lived in Princes Avenue for years. They had sold the house to a muggle family and had moved away to another part of the country. They had moved a great many times since then.  
The problem with raising a boy cursed with lycanthropy is that, inevitably, people start asking questions about the noise. Some of those who had been the Lupins’ neighbours in the earlier years had been under the impression that they had owned a rather badly-behaved dog. And quite a big dog, they had guessed, from the smashed furniture and the volume of the howling that went on late into the night.  
‘Oh yes,’ Lyall had said, every time a neighbour had come to complain, smiling a very apologetic smile, ‘my sister’s dog, you see, we were just looking after it for the one night. We’ve tried taking it to classes but nothing’s worked. Won’t happen again, I promise.’ Then he had closed the door and he and Hope had immediately begun planning the next move.  
And it had only gotten worse over time. As Remus had gotten bigger, so too had his transformations. And the bigger they got, the wilder they got. So much so that Lyall had bought a metal cage, big enough to hold Remus when he transformed, that could be taken apart and reassembled every time they went to a new home. Remus was asleep in that cage at that very moment, the full moon having been the previous night. He would not be asleep long. The sun had been up for quite a while and was beginning to shine through the slats in the blinds that covered the bedroom window. But Lyall and Hope wanted to let him rest. As long as he could. But that could not go on forever and, finally, Lyall’s gentle voice made the first noise of the day.  
‘Remus,’ he called, softly, for all the world as if Remus were asleep, snugly in his bed, like any normal child his age. ‘Remus. Time to get up.’  
Remus woke with a start, casting about in all directions, panic filling him. Had he got out? Had he hurt someone?  
‘Its alright, Remus,’ Lyall soothed him, ‘you’re alright. You’ve been in there all night, nothing went wrong.’  
Remus’s eyes finally stopped rolling in fear and turned to take in his father. The sight of him calmed him down enough to see the truth of his father’s words. He was in the cage, the same place he had lost consciousness the night before when he had begun transforming. The pain usually drove him to pass out before the transformation was finished. Remus still remembered his first transformation, in the locked, isolated ward of St. Mungo’s, the agony that had wracked his body and then having to relive it the morning after. The memory still made him shudder. And it had got no better as the months, the years, had gone by.  
Remus breathed a sigh of relief. He had got out, once or twice, and had caused havoc in the area where they had been living. Those had been the times that the Lupins had packed up and left the very next day, Hope handling the selling of the house via telephone.  
His mother was not there this morning, nor had she been any morning after a transformation. Not to see him wake up, anyway. Remus thought it was because it hurt her too much to see her son in a cage. She would greet him in the kitchen with a smile and a kiss and breakfast, and would then refuse to speak of anything that had happened the previous night.  
He could smell the sweet scent of bacon even now. Lyall saw his expression and smiled.  
‘Breakfast will be ready for you when you get downstairs,’ he said, ‘are you feeling strong enough to walk?’  
‘I think so,’ said Remus.  
‘Alright,’ Lyall said, opening the cage door and putting a pile of clothes down on the floor, ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed.’ With that, Lyall turned around and left the room.  
Remus got to his feet. The cage was a big one, more than big enough for him to stand up in, in both of his forms. Sometimes, Remus wished it wasn’t. Perhaps if the cage was too small for the wolf to move in, he would find it even harder to escape from. Even if that had only been twice, that was twice too many in his opinion.  
He picked up the clothes and pulled them on, noticing that it was his school uniform. He groaned. Of course, it was still only Thursday. A school day. He pulled on his trousers. A sudden pain made him wince and look down. A long new scratch was cut along his thigh. Remus sighed.  
The natural instinct of a werewolf was to seek out victims to bite. Cut off from victims by his cage, Remus regularly awoke after the night of a full moon to find he had attacked himself. It was a good thing the trousers were dark, he thought, they wouldn’t get stained too badly by the blood. He left off his white school shirt, though, until his father had healed him.  
When he was as dressed as he could be, he left the cage room, went down the stairs and into the kitchen. The table was laid for breakfast, three place mats, three sets of cutlery and three tall glasses of orange juice. Lyall sat at one of these places, a copy of the Daily Prophet open in his hands.  
‘…getting worse,’ Lyall was saying to Hope, in a hushed voice, ‘squibs and Voldemort’s supporters rioting in pure daylight now. God knows what Jenkins is going to…’ he broke off when he saw Remus. ‘There he is,’ Lyall said, smiling a smile that did not quite touch his eyes, ‘you do remember that school tends to prefer you to wear clothes, don’t you?’  
Hope turned to look at her son, a look of amusement in her eyes.  
‘I…I cut myself,’ Remus said, hesitantly. He knew what saying this would cause and hated seeing it. Sure enough, the smiles dropped immediately from his parents’ faces to be replaced with looks of deepest concern.  
‘Where?’ Lyall asked, pulling out his wand.  
‘On my leg.’ Remus showed his father the cut. He could not help but look at his mother. She had turned back to her cooking, flipping the bacon over in the pan.  
Lyall murmured something and Remus felt a light coolness around his leg. When he looked down, the bleeding had stopped and a new, thin scar ran down his thigh.  
‘Thanks,’ said Remus. His father smiled in answer then stood up.  
‘You’d best get breakfast down you, boy,’ he said, ‘we’re going to have to leave soon.’  
Hope had filled three plates with bacon, baked beans and bread, and made it halfway to the table before she burst out, ‘He shouldn’t have to go today. The full moon was last night. We can call in sick for him.’  
Lyall shook his head.  
‘We’ve done that for the last two months,’ he said, ‘even to muggles it will look suspicious if we take him out of school at the same time every month.’  
Hope slammed the plates on the table, cracking one of them.  
‘Reparo,’ Lyall said quickly. The plate mended as if nothing had ever happened to it. Hope didn’t even seem to have noticed.  
‘I don’t like him going in like this,’ she insisted, ‘he’s tired and weakened.’  
‘I’m fine, Mum,’ Remus tried to assure her. In truth he was not keen on going to school but reassuring Hope was more important. His words fell on deaf ears, however.  
‘He can’t miss any more school,’ Lyall said, firmly before softening his tone, ‘look, its only two more days until the weekend. And then only a week until the summer holidays. We’re nearly there, Hope. Soon we won’t have to worry about schools anymore. He’ll be learning magic with me.’  
Far from being pacified, Hope turned on her husband, nostrils flaring.  
‘You just assume he’ll be with us? That’ll only happen if he doesn’t get into Hogwarts.’  
A rather uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen. Remus busied himself eating his breakfast.  
This was not a new topic of conversation in their family. It had first come up when Remus had been seven. He had been walking through a park with his parents. The full moon had been and gone a week and a half previously, so he was feeling almost as fit and healthy as any other boy. Suddenly he’d noticed that they were being followed. A line of ten dogs was trotting merrily behind them in single file. Remus had gasped and his parents had turned, just in time to see the dogs break into a very strange, but unmistakable, conga. The muggles around them who’d seen this had thought it was a performance piece and had laughed and clapped. Lyall had scooped Remus up and they had fled the park before any of the dogs’ owners had been able to catch up with them.  
‘Was that me?’ Remus had asked later, when they were back in their house-at-the-time, ‘did I do that?’  
‘You did indeed,’ Lyall had said, smiling. Once he’d been sure none of the muggles had followed them out of the park, he had found the whole business very amusing. Hope had been smiling too, though she also looked a little worried.  
‘Will the Ministry have to modify the memories of those people?’ She asked, ‘are we going to get in trouble?’  
Lyall had patted her, reassuringly, on the shoulder. ‘They don’t worry about this sort of stuff,’ he’d said, ‘they only bring in Obliviators for bigger things, I mean you heard those muggles, they all thought it was a show. It’ll just be a funny story they can tell their friends and families about.’  
‘So,’ Remus had begun, breathless with excitement now, ‘does that mean I’ll get to go to Hogwarts, like you Dad?’ Lyall had told his son quite a few stories about his time at the wizarding school he’d gone to when he’d been a boy. It had sounded amazing and Remus had hoped ever since that he would be magical so that he could go too.  
Lyall’s face had fallen a little.  
‘Well…’ he’d begun, hesitantly.  
‘I don’t see why not,’ Hope had said, her gaze rather fiery now, ‘if you can do magic, they should accept you.’  
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ Lyall had said, keeping his tone gentle, ‘Professor Dippet had a strict policy on…’ he shot a quick glance at Remus, ‘…on part-humans at Hogwarts. And that’s only gotten stricter since the Chamber of Secrets affair. Dumbledore was always fair but I can’t see the Ministry letting him change that much when he takes over.’  
Remus remembered that story all too well. In Lyall’s third year, someone calling themselves the “Heir of Slytherin” had attacked a number of muggle-born students, finally killing one. A friend of Lyall’s, Rubeus Hagrid, had been apprehended by one of the Slytherin prefects. Hagrid had had a pet Acromantula, which the prefect had claimed to be the monster that had attacked the students. To hear Lyall tell it, no one had really believed that Hagrid was the Heir of Slytherin, but possession of a Class A dangerous creature was enough grounds for expulsion and, as the attacks had stopped after that, no one had taken the issue any further. Lyall had stuck by his friend through the whole business and said it had been what had happened to Hagrid, as much as anything else, that convinced him to go into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.  
‘Hagrid’s a good man,’ Lyall had told his son, ‘but a bit daft when it comes to dangerous creatures. A lot could have been avoided if the import of acromantula was better regulated.’  
Remus remembered how Hope had smiled proudly at her husband when he had said that. She wore a very different expression when they had talked about Hogwarts though. She had planted her feet and stared levelly at her husband.  
‘Part human?’ Her voice had been soft and cold as a midwinter wind. Always a danger sign. Remus had begun backing away, thinking of escape from the room, the elation of his magical discovery completely gone by that point.  
‘Under Paragraph…’ that was as far as Lyall had gotten before his wife had exploded. Remus never heard what Hope had said, exactly, he was too busy running away.  
The subject of him going to Hogwarts had been a sore point ever since. Lyall, clearly not wanting an argument, smiled sadly at his wife.  
‘I suppose so,’ he said, ‘but if he gets in, then he’ll have all the teachers there to help control things. They won’t need us.’  
Remus had not missed the emphasis his father had put on the word “if” but it seemed that this had been enough to, if not please Hope, then pacify her. She turned to look at Remus.  
‘Are you sure you’re feeling up to school?’  
Remus had a mouthful of bacon and had to swallow, hard, before being able to answer.  
‘Yes, definitely,’ he said, his true opinion on the issue forgotten in the act of trying to make Hope happy, ‘we’re going on a trip today, it’ll be fun.’  
Hope sighed. ‘Alright then, as long as you’re sure.’  
Lyall checked his watch. ‘We’d best be going,’ he said, picking up a briefcase and moving to kiss Hope. She instead pulled her husband into a hug. Remus did not catch what she whispered to Lyall but saw him smile and heard him softly say, ‘I know.’ They kissed quickly and then Lyall took his son by the shoulder. Knowing what came next, Remus reached up to grasp Lyall’s arm. He felt it twist away from him just as his fingers closed around his sleeve. The next thing he knew everything went black. He was pressed very hard from all directions. He could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest, his eyeballs were being forced back into his head, his ear-drums were being pushed deeper into his skull.  
Lyall would often take him to school on his way to work. One of the first things they did when they found a new school was to find a nice, secluded spot close by that could be used for drop offs.  
This particular spot was a small thicket of trees that stood just off the school grounds and away from the main road. The second they had appeared, Remus took a deep breath, he did not care for apparition much, while Lyall took a quick look around. Satisfied that there were no muggles around, he turned to his son.  
‘Now, you have a good day,’ he said, ‘I probably won’t get away in time to pick you up so your mother will come meet you by the gates and I’ll see you at home.’  
Remus nodded, hugged his father goodbye, turned and walked out onto the paved street, across the road from the school’s side gate. He heard a pop behind him which meant that Lyall had vanished.  
Saint Ailbe’s Primary School was the third he had been to that year alone. The final term of the final year was never a good time to start making friends, though there were some children he had been able to at least get on good terms with. They waved at him as he arrived on the playground and, when the bell rang, they all walked in together to their classroom.  
The trip that had been planned for that day was an educational visit to the Royal Crystal, so that the children could learn about how glass was made. A pleasant end to the school year with a nice, easy science lesson that the children might even also enjoy.  
The boy who had been made Remus’s guide when he’d first arrived at the school sat next to him on the bus they took to the factory. They had become friendly in the few weeks Remus had been at the school. The boy’s name was Luke.  
‘Are you going on holiday over summer?’ Luke asked him as the bus pulled onto the dual-carriageway. Remus had never, as far as he could remember, been on holiday. It was hard enough keeping his transformations under control when he was at home, never mind somewhere unfamiliar. He shook his head.  
‘Are you?’ He asked. Luke nodded.  
‘We’re going to Minehead,’ he said, proudly, ‘Dad says there’s a fair there and we’re going to build a huge sandcastle on the beach.’  
Remus smiled as he listened to Luke talk but couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. He wished that he could do things like that. Go on holiday with his parents, build sandcastles and eat ice cream. On the days when he was feeling strong enough, Remus’s parents would take him out for the day to castles or to parks but it wasn’t the same. And Remus knew Lyall and Hope felt the same way.  
There were days, usually the ones directly after the full moon, when he felt such a burden to his parents. He thought about everything they did, the constant moving around, finding new schools every other month. He wished there was something he could do to help, but he was part of the problem.  
They arrived at the Royal Crystal a little before midday. The teacher, Mr. Thomas, sorted them into pairs and told them to follow him at all times and not to wander off. They were greeted by a smiling woman wearing neat business dress and carrying a clipboard.  
‘Welcome everyone,’ she spoke in an accent thick with the Valleys that even Remus struggled to understand, ‘if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you through to the show room where you’ll see some of the things we make here and then we’ll go through to the workshop.’  
As they followed the woman, she delivered an introductory speech about the Royal Crystal, when and how it had been founded and so on, that no one except Mr. Thomas seemed to be listening to. Remus and Luke trailed behind at the back of the crowd. Remus was looking at the large pictures that were hung on the walls of the corridor, depicting elegant and intricately made glass phials and ornaments and of glassmiths in the process of making, presumably, the same things.  
They eventually arrived in a large room filled with glass cabinets where their guide encouraged them to look around while they waited for the demonstration.  
Remus wandered aimlessly around the room looking, without much interest, into the cabinets. He supposed they were very nice to look at and it would be interesting to see them being made, but it was only a passing interest. He would much rather be in the school library. That was where he tended to spend his breaks and lunch times. He would happily get lost in a book for hours, if he had been allowed. There were frequently occasions when he would be shocked to hear the bell ushering him to the next class, having felt that he had just sat down.  
Remus had been so lost in his thoughts, dwelling on a book he had started the other day about a fantastical world filled with magic, he found it amusing that the muggles wrote so often about magic despite refusing to see what existed right under their noses, that he completely failed to see the contents of the cabinets he walked past. He was snapped out of this reverie, however, when he arrived at the last glass case. It had only one item displayed inside, a perfectly round crystal sphere.  
‘Ah, now that one has quite the interesting story,’ their guide had appeared at Remus’s shoulder as quickly as though she had apparated, ‘the Blower had been trying to make an ordinary crystal ball, commissioned by a fortune teller for one of their shows. But something went a bit wrong in the process, happens from time to time. Normally when that happens the glass is melted down and they start again but the Blower noticed that the depressions caught the light in a really interesting way…’  
Remus was barely listening. He was transfixed by the sphere. The back of the cabinet had been covered in a very dark blue material and he could see the imperfections that the guide was talking about. Yes, they were interesting alright. A lattice of small indents in the upper left side of the sphere that, when held in the light, left them darker than the rest of the sphere, making the whole thing look all too familiar. Remus looked up at the plaque at the top of the case.  
“The Glass Moon – Created June 1969”  
‘…and so he thought it was too strange of a coincidence to discard it,’ the guide was still talking, ‘so it was decided…are you alright, dear?’  
Remus could barely hear her. It was as though he was hearing the world from a long way away.  
No, he thought, panicking. No, it can’t be. Its not the real thing, it just looks like it. Its not really the moon.  
But the full moon had only been last night. Might there be some lasting effect triggered by seeing this crystal version of the moon? He looked around the room. It was full of his classmates. What if he transformed here? He tried to run. But it was as if his legs had become rooted and turned to jelly. He could barely move.  
Dimly he was aware of voices. They sounded concerned rather than terrified. And there wasn’t any pain. Usually by now his limbs would be stretching, his ribs breaking and then reforming. That didn’t seem to be happening. But he was going away. Away inside himself just like he did every full moon, his mind swallowed up by the storm of instinct and animal rage that was the wolf.  
He thought he saw a face. Some people said that if you looked at the full moon in the right way, you saw a man’s face. Remus had never been able to see it. Was that the face they were talking about? If it was, it seemed to be looking at him with worry, its mouth moving in words Remus couldn’t hear. Then the darkness swallowed him up and Remus saw no more.


	3. For Lack of a Letter

The trip to the Royal Crystal was Remus’s last day at primary school. Hope had received a call from the school nurse saying that Remus had suddenly fainted during the school trip and asking if she could come and pick him up. In a state near enough to panic, Hope had said she’d be right there and had been out the door and halfway up the street inside of two minutes.  
Remus was awake when she had arrived but was still only half aware of what was happening. It was in this state that he was half dragged, half carried, back to their home where Hope sent Simargl, the family owl, to the Ministry with a message for Lyall who arrived inside of an hour, concern on his face. After hearing the whole story, Lyall had looked at his son, clearly confused.  
‘So, you had a reaction to a crystal that looked like a full moon?’ He asked. Remus, still feeling weak, was only able to nod feebly. Lyall and Hope exchanged a worried glance.  
‘I didn’t know that could happen,’ Hope said. Her eyes had hardly left Remus since they had got home. Lyall shook his head, looking thoughtful.  
‘There’s still a lot about Lycanthropy that we just don’t know,’ he said, his forefinger beating a rhythm against his chin, ‘it could be a residual effect, since the full moon was last night.’  
‘I knew we shouldn’t have let him go today,’ Hope said, though she sounded worried instead of angry. Lyall had nodded, slowly.  
‘Yes, well, no helping that now. The boggart’s out of the dresser now.’ He looked back down at Remus. He appeared hesitant and Remus knew exactly what that meant.  
‘I think we should take this as an opportunity to get away for the summer,’ he said slowly. Hope seemed to droop visibly.  
‘Oh Lyall,’ she said, ‘again?’  
Lyall looked sympathetic but firm.  
‘Yes,’ he said, decisively, ‘I know just the place. A nice, quiet, small town out in the country. We’ll have a nice, peaceful summer holiday. And who knows, we might like it enough to stay there after summer, if you like the secondary school there.’  
The moment his father had said those words, Remus felt the weariness drain from him to be replaced by something far worse. A numb emptiness. If Lyall was talking about secondary schools, that could only mean…  
‘What about Hogwarts?’ Hope demanded. Lyall sighed and turned to face his wife.  
‘Hope, the last of the Hogwarts letters were sent out at the start of the month,’ he looked back at Remus, ‘I found out today. I’m sorry.’  
Remus didn’t say anything. He’d known all his life that there was a chance, a very strong chance, that he wouldn’t be allowed to go because of what he was. His father had told him, time and time again, of the strict rules about non or part humans attending the school. But he had hoped, especially after hearing his father talking about Professor Dumbledore becoming headmaster, that maybe, just maybe, he might get in. It was strange, he felt like he wanted to cry, or shout or something; something to hit back at the injustice of it all, but it was as though his father’s words had drained everything out of him and he could only sit and watch his mother sit down, heavily, in the room’s other armchair.  
Lyall moved past Hope, taking her hand and giving it a quick squeeze, before pulling out his wand. With a wave and a few muttered words, the boxes that stood in the corner of the room lifted into the air and were immediately neatly filled with the personal possessions of the Lupin family.  
They left the following day. A black ministry car pulled up outside the house in the early hours, before any of the muggles were up and about. The driver helped Lyall load all the boxes into the boot, which magically enlarged itself so that it could accommodate everything, then they all got in and the car pulled away.  
Remus looked out the window but he barely saw the house that had been home for three months disappear from sight, no more did he see the houses and the streets go past nor St. Ailbe’s school. He stared out the window, hardly noticing anything as the car finally left the town behind them and pulled onto a country road.  
He was disappointed, he couldn’t deny it. A small part of him had really believed what his father had said, that Dumbledore was a different sort of wizard and would likely allow him to come to school. A wizard school, full of other children he wouldn’t have to hide anything from. He still remembered when one teacher at one of his schools had asked what his father did for a living, he had not known what to say and had just said “he works with animals” and had not said anything more about it. He believed that the teacher had then thought Lyall was some kind of exterminator.  
Thinking of his father made Remus glance at his parents. They must be almost as disappointed as he was. If he was at Hogwarts, they would not have to worry about him every month. They would be able to stay in the same place for longer than a few months and lead normal lives while he was at school.  
They were a little over an hour on the road before they arrived in what was to be their new home. Remus happened to be looking out the window as they drove past the sign. They had been driving along a slightly winding country road, passing a pub on the right, and had then turned left onto a very straight road with fields stretching out to either side as well as a small river. It was over this river that the road ran and it was on this bridge that the welcome sign for what was to be their new home stood.  
Croeso/Welcome  
Llanbedr Pont Steffan  
Lampeter 

Remus craned his neck to look ahead and see the town. From what he could see, Lyall had not been lying when he’d described it as a small town: in half an hour’s walk you would be able to walk from one end of the place to the other.  
He supposed there was not much point in complaining though. The chances were good that they would be moving away again before they made themselves too comfortable.  
‘Take a left here,’ Lyall said to the driver, ‘the house is just a little way down on the right.’  
They turned onto a narrow side street, though by the looks of things they were the only kind of streets in this town, and after a little while they pulled to a halt.  
Remus looked out of the window. It was a line of terrace houses, much like the ones that could be found in any town. Small but very pretty and well put together. In fact, that seemed to describe the town itself.  
Lyall was also looking out the window, and there was an appreciative look on his face.  
‘This will do nicely, I think,’ he said, opening the car door and letting himself out. Hope, who’d been sitting in the front seat, gave Remus an encouraging look before letting herself out. Lyall opened Remus’s door for him and he got out, now looking up and down the road. It seemed a quiet street, but at this hour that was hardly surprising. The only signs of life were the occasional dog walker Remus could see crossing the street.  
The ministry driver helped them unload their belongings. Hope and Remus carried the boxes to the door, just in case any muggles happened to be looking out their windows, where Lyall used his wand to make the boxes hover in and unpack themselves. Dishes and cutlery flew into kitchen cupboards and drawers while furniture unpacked and assembled itself in the living room. Clothes whizzed upstairs to store themselves in newly assembled wardrobes and dressers. Within an hour, everything was unpacked. To anyone walking into the house, the Lupins might have been living there their whole lives.  
‘Well,’ said the driver, ‘if that’s all you’ll be needing me for, I’ll be heading off. See you at the ministry, Lyall.’ Doffing his cap to Hope, the driver turned and, a moment later, Remus heard the car start up and pull away.  
Lyall pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.  
‘Speaking of which, I should really be heading to work,’ he said, flicking his wand to make his briefcase soar into his outstretched hand. He kissed Hope and ruffled Remus’s hair. ‘I’ll see you both tonight. I’ll try and get away as early as possible.’ And with that, Lyall turned and Disapparated.  
Hope watched him go, wordlessly, and breathed a heavy sigh once he was gone. She looked at Remus, who had made himself comfortable in an armchair.  
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I suppose we’re starting your summer holidays early. But we can go out and have a look around, how about that?’  
Remus wasn’t too keen on the idea. He was eyeing the television set in the corner longingly. Hope had insisted that she and Lyall get a television so that she could keep up with her muggle soap operas but at this time there would not likely be anything on. The children’s television wouldn’t start until much later but he was not in the mood to do much more than sit and stare at the pictures that day.  
But he could tell Hope wanted to get out of the house and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to look around this town. He forced an enthusiastic smile to his face, nodded and hopped up onto his feet. There would be time to stare at the television later. Hope smiled warmly at him, handed him a jacket from the clothes peg and, together, they walked out the front door.  
It was well into the morning by this time. The sun was up in an almost cloudless sky and, as Remus and his mother turned out of their road onto what he still thought was the high street, Remus could see that people were actually out now, walking up and down the pavement. A very small number of them, Remus was sure he could see less than twenty, but they were still there. He privately wondered how many people actually lived in this town.  
They walked at a leisurely pace up the road, passing by a fish and chip shop with an emerald green sign. On the other side of the road, a man in an apron was opening the shutters of a small hardware shop. A little way down the street from here, three happy looking young men were emerging from a café that claimed to serve an all-day breakfast.  
‘We can stop in there a little later, if you like?’ Hope said. Remus said nothing but smiled and nodded. In truth he did not feel like eating anything. He was very much not hungry.  
They continued up the street, past a pub called “The Kings Head”, then arrived at a point where another road joined the one they had been walking along. A fountain stood on the other side of the road. Hope wanted to have a look so they crossed over. It was then that Remus realised he had not seen a car drive past them since they had left the house. Where were they?  
They carried on up the high street. Glancing down the road that joined onto it, Remus saw the sign for a university campus. The sign looked very old. A little further along the road, they passed by another pub. Then another. And another. Then a bank and then two on opposite side of the road from each other. How could such a small town need so many pubs?  
The road bent to the left and they followed it round and, just five minutes later, Remus was suddenly aware they were no longer in the town. He looked back in surprise. It really was a small town. Was that small junction by the fountain the centre of the town?  
Hope seemed to be as taken aback as he was but took the sudden change in her stride, pointing towards a country lane that ran, rather steeply, uphill. Remus felt more than a little tired just looking at it but nodded in agreement and followed his mother as she crossed the road again. As they began climbing, Remus looked back and saw a car drive past at a leisurely speed, the first he had seen moving since the ministry one.  
The hill was just as steep as it had looked. Within minutes, Remus was breathing heavily, puffing out his cheeks as he kept pace with his mother who was striding up the lane as though they were still back on the high street. He looked up ahead. He had hoped that they were nearly there but they were not even halfway to the top yet. He focussed on just putting one foot in front of the other. One good thing about this was that it was keeping his mind off things.  
In reality the climb likely took no longer than fifteen minutes, but it felt much longer to Remus. Eventually, though, they arrived at the top. Hope sighed, contentedly, her hands on her hips. Remus had to fight the urge to double over and heave in breath and instead took in what was before them.  
A tall, wooden fence ran along both sides of the side of the lane, the wooden bars strung with chicken wire. Remus assumed this was farmland and, sure enough, a cattle gate stood just to their right, overlooking a large field of green grass, over which could be seen the tops of the houses of the town they had just left.  
Hope walked over and leant against the gate, looking out over the field. Remus went to stand beside her. It was a very nice view. He imagined that he could quite happily stay here for a good long time just looking at it all. It was so peaceful. Nothing to be heard but the sound of birds and sheep and the very distant rumble of traffic.  
‘So,’ said Hope, breaking the silence, her voice taking on a familiar, no-nonsense tone, ‘how are you feeling?’  
Remus looked up at his mother, surprised. He had not expected this. Suddenly it was as if he were still in that moment, back in the living room of their last house, hearing Lyall say that the Hogwarts letters had already gone out, that he would not be allowed to go. It hit him like a punch to the gut but he tried not to show it. Instead he put on a brave face, a well-practiced one, for his mother.  
‘I’m fine,’ he lied. Even to himself, it did not sound convincing.  
‘You’re still going to learn magic,’ Hope said, firmly, ‘your father may not be a professor, but he is a great wizard and he can teach you as well as anyone. And we’ll still go to Diagon Alley and buy all your spell books and everything. And a wand, you’ve got to have a wand.’  
Remus did not know if what his mother said was making him feel better or worse. But he kept smiling and nodded. Hope raised an eyebrow at him but did not say anything else. She simply reached an arm around his shoulders and drew him to her. Remus welcomed the warmth of the embrace. He didn’t say anything, in truth his throat felt too tight for words, but he returned the hug. There didn’t seem to be anything to say, anyway.  
‘Did I ever tell you the story about how I met your father?’ Hope said, suddenly.  
Remus let out a small laugh and shook his head. In truth he had heard the story a number of times, but he enjoyed hearing it and it was a change of subject which was what he wanted. Hope stroked Remus’s hair and began.  
‘I remember it like it happened yesterday,’ she said, ‘it was the end of the day, I’d finished work, and I decided to take a stroll through some woods close by my house. Well I was alone and I got a bit lost and while I was trying to figure out where I was, a man came out of the bushes. He was a large man, big and hairy as a gorilla, and he was holding a knife. I screamed and tried to run away but I was that frightened I couldn’t move. Well, lucky for me, your father was close by and he came to my rescue. I almost thought I was in a story when this handsome man jumped out of nowhere, in between me and the other one. Then he pulled out a stick and pointed it at the man with a knife. I was just thinking that maybe there had been an escape from the local asylum when suddenly there was a load crack and the big man vanished, poof, right into thin air.’ Remus smiled. He’d always liked the idea of his father acting the hero, though Lyall maintained that he’d just been doing his job and had most certainly not been trying to show off for the pretty young woman he’d found lost in the woods.  
‘He then offered to walk me home and, on the way, he told me that he was a wizard and that the thing that had attacked me was not really a man but a boggart,’ Hope made a face, ‘of course he forgot mention that boggarts aren’t all that dangerous really. I thought I’d just been saved from a dangerous monster. I was oh-so-impressed, which of course is what your father wanted. It seemed he was as taken with me as I was with him. Well, we arrived at my house and he asked if he could see me again and I said yes.’ Remus looked up and saw Hope’s eyes were half glazed and she was smiling. She was picturing it all happening, he was sure. ‘He then conjured a white rose out of his wand and gave it to me. I think he was making sure I knew he wasn’t lying about the wizard business.’  
‘But didn’t that surprise you?’ Remus asked. He’d never asked before, he’d been so young when he’d first heard the story that he’d never questioned anything, nor even thought of the fact that his mother, a muggle, might have been surprised to learn about the magical world.  
Hope’s eyes came back into focus and looked down at him and there was a strange look there now, almost like realisation.  
‘You know, it really didn’t,’ she said, ‘which is mad, really. Thinking about it, I should have been shocked, scared or something. But I suppose meeting your father overshadowed everything else. I was thinking of him so much I barely gave a thought to the fact that magic actually existed until weeks later. It just didn’t seem as important. And then it just became normal so I didn’t worry about it. Then, of course, we got married and had you and I wanted to be there to look after you so I quit my job so I didn’t really need to think about the muggle world anymore, apart from my parents, your grandparents. Now they were shocked when they found out about magic, they could certainly tell you stories.’ She fell silent then, apparently once again lost in fond memories. Remus didn’t mind. He left her to it and simply enjoyed the moment, this time away from reality where he could just watch the world go by.  
Remus did not know how long they stood there but eventually Hope pulled away from him and said they had better be heading back home. They walked back down the hill and into the town.  
They stopped off at the diner as both Remus and his mother suddenly became aware that neither of them had eaten that day. Hope ordered a full English for the both of them and the owner quickly returned with two plates piled high with sausage, bacon, eggs, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes and black pudding. Hope took Remus’s tomatoes, he didn’t like tomatoes, while he helped himself to her black pudding, Hope despised the stuff.  
Feeling full and considerably more content, mother and son left the diner and headed back to the house.  
Lyall came home that evening just as the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon. Hope was reading a book while Remus was watching, but not really paying attention to, a muggle quiz show. There was a crack and suddenly Lyall stood there looking tired and pleased to be back.  
‘Long day,’ he sighed, dropping his briefcase by the door and bending to kiss Hope, ‘a group of muggle policemen stumbled on a boggart hive in Newcastle. By the time we got there, they were all running around being chased by what they thought were all the criminals they’d put in prison, so that was pretty much the whole morning. Then the Beast Division had to call in for backup from the whole department. Some genius in London had apparently been rearing Peruvian Vipertooth’s, illegally obviously, and they’d gotten loose and escaped into the Underground. We managed to round them all up before any muggles found them but it was a close call and I’ll be very surprised if that fellow isn’t dragged in front of the whole Wizengamot. Illegal dragon breeding added to risking the International Statute of Secrecy,’ Lyall shook his head as he went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, ‘well anyway, how has your day been?’  
Hope looked quickly at Remus before saying.  
‘Oh, we just explored the town. Found some nice places to eat.’  
Lyall, steaming mug in hand, sat in his armchair.  
‘Anywhere close? I could certainly do with something quick and easy tonight. And I don’t know about you, love, but I don’t feel like cooking.’  
Hope smiled. ‘No, I don’t either. There’s a fish and chip shop just around the corner.’  
‘That sounds just the ticket,’ said Lyall, taking a sip before standing up, ‘I’ll go. Let me just go grab my other wallet, I don’t have any muggle money on me.’  
Before he could take a step, however, there came a knock on the door. The change in the atmosphere was so quick it was almost alarming. Both Lyall and Hope tensed. Lyall placed his cup of tea on a side table.  
‘Are we expecting anyone?’ he asked, though Remus could tell from the way his father clutched his wand that he already knew the answer.  
Hope shook her head. ‘But surely they wouldn’t knock?’  
Remus was confused. Who was “they”?  
Lyall had a troubled look on his face.  
‘I don’t know,’ he said. He was twirling his wand between his fingers. Scarlet sparks flew out. Lyall cursed softly and visibly forced himself to stop. ‘It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing they’d do but then there haven’t been any reports of what they do. Nobody knows.’  
Before Remus could ask what his parents were talking about, there came another knock. It was a soft knock, hardly someone banging at the door which was why Lyall and Hope’s reaction seemed so strange. The knock came again. Soft, but insistent.  
Apparently making up his mind, Lyall strode out into the hallway, wand held behind his back but at the ready. Hope came to sit beside Remus. She seemed calm but there was an undeniable air of protectiveness to her, like a cat ready to spring.  
Remus heard the latch click as his father opened the door followed by the soft creak as the door opened.  
‘Ah, good evening, Lyall,’ an unfamiliar, male voice broke the tense silence, ‘I hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced, but I have some rather important business involving you and your family and I thought it best to come by after you had finished work.’  
Remus’s curiosity was certainly piqued by this. Who would need to speak to his father after work? Was it one of his colleagues? But surely if this stranger worked at the Ministry, he could have just spoken to his father at work.  
For a moment, Lyall said nothing. Hope, who’s hand had been resting on Remus’s shoulder, seemed to grow, if possible, even tenser. But then they heard Lyall’s voice.  
‘Not a problem. Not a problem at all. Won’t you come in?’ He sounded flustered, something Remus had never heard from his father before. But he did not sound frightened, quite the contrary, Lyall sounded positively giddy.  
‘Thank you,’ the strange voice said, and Remus heard footsteps followed by the sound of the door closing. Lyall sidled back into the room with the excited look of a small child who’d just seen Father Christmas, followed by possibly the oddest-looking man Remus had ever seen.  
He was tall and thin, with silver hair that was long enough to be tucked into his belt, much like his beard. He was wearing robes that were, unlike the robes his father wore which were usually a stern black or brown, a vibrant shade of crimson and trimmed in gold embroidery. He was also wearing high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and looked as though it had been broken.  
‘Ah and this must be your lovely wife, Hope,’ he said, beaming at her before his bright eyes turned on Remus, ‘and this is your son.’ It was not a question but Lyall, who had gone to stand awkwardly by the fireplace, nodded emphatically.  
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘yes, this is Remus.’  
The stranger smiled warmly, though Remus could not help but feel as if those bright blue eyes were seeing straight through him.  
‘Excellent,’ said the stranger, ‘well then, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Albus Dumbledore.’


	4. The Headmaster

Remus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dumbledore? The Albus Dumbledore? In their house?  
Remus had heard his father talk about the man enough times to know who he was. The greatest wizard alive; the man who had beaten Grindelwald, the most powerful dark wizard ever; who had done so much for wizards around the world and was now headmaster of Hogwarts School.  
Why would he be here?  
Dumbledore did not seem inclined to answer any of these questions right away. Instead he turned to Remus’s mother.  
‘I hope you will not mind if I address you as Hope?’ He asked, his bright blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses.  
Hope seemed as speechless as her husband. She might not be a witch but she had heard enough about Dumbledore from her husband to be as surprised to find him in her home as Remus was. For a moment it was all she could do to open and close her mouth, looking amusingly like a goldfish. Dumbledore did not laugh but kept smiling the pleasant smile he had been wearing since he walked into the room and waited patiently.  
Finally, Hope seemed to regain her ability to speak.  
‘No,’ she said, her voice sounding half strangled, ‘no, of course not.’  
‘Well then,’ Dumbledore beamed, ‘I wonder if I could impose upon you for a cup of tea? It’s been rather a long journey.’  
Words apparently failing Hope again, she only nodded and then bolted from the room in the direction of the kitchen.  
‘You travelled all the way here from Hogwarts, Professor?’ Lyall asked, sounding surprised. He, of course, had known Dumbledore as a teacher and so was not quite as star-struck as his wife, though he did still look at him with eyes a little wider than usual. It was as if some priceless jewel had walked into the living room and asked him the time of day. Remus would have laughed had he not been so stunned himself.  
Dumbledore was nodding.  
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I never Apparate if I can help it. Doesn’t agree with my digestion. I prefer to fly, when I can.’  
Remus was barely listening as Dumbledore and his father exchanged pleasantries. He was still waiting to hear the reason why this great sorcerer had flown all the way to this little town in the middle of nowhere. Was it because of him? But it couldn’t be. He hadn’t received a letter. Maybe he was here to speak to Lyall? Maybe there was a position at Hogwarts he wanted Lyall to fill?  
As if hearing his thoughts, Dumbledore turned those blue eyes on him.  
‘Now, Remus,’ said Dumbledore, his voice warm and pleasant, ‘you’re actually the reason I’m here today.’  
Remus could think of nothing to say. Dumbledore was here to talk to him? But why?  
Finally, he simply said, ‘Oh,’ and a moment later, ‘Okay.’  
Dumbledore smiled at him. He had a very warm smile, Remus noticed. It was a smile that immediately made you feel at ease.  
Taking a seat on the sofa opposite from where Remus sat, Dumbledore fixed him again with his piercing gaze from behind his half-moon glasses.  
‘I imagine you may have heard that the last of the Hogwarts acceptance letters went out some time ago,’ said Dumbledore, ‘and no doubt you were disappointed that yours was not among them?’  
The warm feeling the smile had given him vanished. Had Dumbledore come all this way to rub his nose in the fact that he couldn’t go to Hogwarts? It seemed excessively mean, especially from a man who his father was always calling such a great wizard.  
Something of this thought must have shown on his face, because Dumbledore suddenly looked aghast.  
‘Remus, I’m so sorry, I phrased that rather poorly. I should have said it had been my intention to send your letter months ago but, alas, Eugenia Jenkins turned out to be more stubborn than I had anticipated. It was only this week that I finally convinced her. I regret I may have become a tad short with her. But these things are easily soothed between old friends and all to the greater good, I think. Yes.’  
He seemed lost in thought for a moment, though he snapped out of his reverie when Hope returned holding a steaming mug of tea. It seemed she had not thought to make any for anyone else.  
Remus was struggling to process what he was hearing. Was Dumbledore saying what he thought he was saying? He’d said he’d meant to send his letter. But did that mean there was an actual letter or merely that Dumbledore had wanted to send him one? Had Dumbledore been able to overturn a centuries old rule? He did not dare allow himself to hope.  
Dumbledore took a sip from his cup and let out a satisfied sigh. He did not seem in any hurry to get to the point. In spite of how tense he was feeling, Remus had to stifle a laugh at the sight of his parents. Neither had taken a seat and were now awkwardly hovering behind where Dumbledore sat.  
Dumbledore himself did not seem to notice them, his attention was entirely on Remus.  
‘You do not seem pleased,’ Dumbledore said. He cocked an eyebrow that might have suggested mild disapproval if not for the mischievous twinkling in his eye.  
Remus opened his mouth, found his throat too dry to speak, coughed and then spoke.  
‘I’m just a bit confused,’ he said, trying not to sound too hopeful. But why else would Dumbledore have come? Surely the only reason the Headmaster had come here was that…no, he told himself, no it must be something else.  
Dumbledore chuckled before reaching into an inner pocket of his robes and pulling out a thick envelope made of yellowish parchment.  
‘Perhaps this will clarify things,’ he said.  
Remus stretched out his hand to take the envelope, addressed to Mr R. Lupin, The Back Bedroom, 20 New Street, Lampeter, Ceredigion. He pulled out the letter and read:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY  
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)  
Dear Mr Lupin,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress  
‘Professor McGonagall?’  
Remus jumped and turned around to see his father, who had been reading the letter over his shoulder. Dumbledore turned his gaze on Lyall.  
‘Yes,’ he said, amiably, ‘she seemed the logical choice when I was given the headmaster position.’ He turned back to Remus. ‘So, do you accept?’  
Not for the first time that day, Remus was absolutely speechless. He could go. He was going to be allowed to go to Hogwarts. It was all he had ever dreamed of. He felt as if there was a fireworks display going on inside him. He turned to Lyall and Hope, expecting them to look happy and was surprised when he saw them looking at each other. Their expressions were not joyful. They did not appear unhappy, but as if there was something unpleasant that needed to be mentioned. Which of course there was. It was as if the fireworks had died. Remus knew exactly what was bothering his parents and he had a sudden rush of disgust with himself for not thinking of it himself.  
‘Professor,’ Lyall said, tentatively, ‘this is something we’ve all been hoping for. But, I mean, you know what Remus is…’ He left the rest unsaid. He didn’t need to finish. All in the room knew what he was getting at. If Remus was to attend Hogwarts, then what would happen under the light of the full moon?  
Remus winced and looked at his mother. But, for once, she did not seem to have any argument on the subject. Then Remus realised; Hope had always been the one saying he deserved to attend Hogwarts. Believing this would happen, she had been the one worried about what that would mean. Lyall, he knew, had never believed it would be allowed and so had not concerned himself with how the school might be able to shield the rest of the students from Remus every month. Now that that had become a possibility, both of his parents were worried about the same thing. It was rather unnerving.  
Remus had to repress a sad smile. Some boys his age might be upset by the idea of their parents being more worried about other children than their own, but he knew better. Werewolves, even eleven-year-old ones, did not need all that much protection. It was those around them who were in danger.  
Dumbledore did not seem to share the Lupins’ trepidation. On the contrary, he smiled and steepled his fingers in his lap.  
‘You needn’t worry, Lyall,’ he said, ‘I have made all the preparations so that, come September, we will be able to manage your son’s, erm, problem.’  
With that, Dumbledore pulled a wand from the sleeve of his robes and waved it, causing a large cloth bag to pop into existence above them. It came down slowly and Dumbledore placed his wand beside him on the sofa and reached out a hand to grip it by the handle. He then snapped the bag open and reached cautiously in. After a moment, he pulled out what appeared to be an ugly and twisted tree sapling in a large flower pot. It was, perhaps, as tall as a man’s forearm and already had long, very thin, branches that seemed to reach out like fingers in every direction.  
Dumbledore was holding it around the trunk, his thumb pressing hard against it. He placed the sapling on the coffee table and took his hand away quickly. Remus saw why. The second the headmaster released his grip the plant sprang to life. Its branches began swaying gently from side to side, as if daring anything to come close.  
‘This,’ Dumbledore said, by way of explanation, ‘is a juvenile Whomping Willow. One of two that is to be planted in the Hogwarts grounds this summer. Professor Sprout assures me they are very fast growing and will be more than ten feet tall by September. If you will observe…’ Holding his wand again, Dumbledore slowly moved the tip closer and closer to the plant. When it was maybe a foot away from the trunk, the branches suddenly moved, making an audible whack against the wand. Dumbledore took it away and immediately the plant returned to its more docile, yet still threatening manner. ‘A house has been constructed on the outskirts of Hogsmeade,’ Dumbledore went on, as if nothing had happened, ‘it is completely barred on the outside and a passageway runs from it to the school grounds. This Whomping Willow will be planted above the entrance. On the night of your transformation, you will enter the passage and go to the house. You will spend the night there and return in the morning. The tree will prevent any from following you and it's my belief that the sound of a werewolf coming from inside the house will prevent any curious locals from investigating.’  
Dumbledore finished and picked up his cup of tea, careful not to let his hand stray to near the still swaying sapling.  
Remus looked at his parents. They were looking at each other again, though now his mother looked hopeful while Lyall looked thoughtful.  
‘That should work,’ he said at last.  
‘Yes, that was rather my thinking as well,’ Dumbledore said, still smiling softly. Hope said nothing. She seemed to be holding her breath. She seemed unable to believe what was happening. ‘Remus,’ Dumbledore turned his attention back on him, ‘you have been very quiet through all this. You have heard all of our plans. The most important question has yet to be answered. Will you accept a place at Hogwarts? I have made all the preparations for you, but if you would rather not come I shall of course understand…’  
‘No!’ Remus blurted out, ‘I want to come! I…’ He looked around at his parents. Perhaps they still had their doubts about him going. They would not be able to keep an eye on him if he went. If something went wrong, they would not be able to do anything about it. But Lyall was smiling a small smile and Hope nodded, encouragingly. Remus turned back to Dumbledore. ‘I would like to accept the place at Hogwarts,’ he said, trying to sound as mature as he could. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.  
‘Excellent,’ he said, ‘most excellent. Don’t worry about sending the owl,’ he directed this at Lyall, ‘I’d like to think the word of the headmaster that a student is attending should count for something. Well then, Remus, I shall see you on the first of September. Now, if you don’t mind, I just need to have a quiet word with your parents.’  
Understanding the dismissal, Remus stood up and headed in the direction of his bedroom. He had to resist the urge to bounce with excitement on every step. He was going, he was really going.  
He was about halfway up the stairs when an exclamation from his parents brought him to an abrupt halt.  
‘He’s working for him? You’re sure?’  
That was Lyall’s voice. He sounded shocked and angry. Remus listened intently. He had never heard his father’s voice like this.  
‘I am sure,’ Dumbledore said, his voice barely rising above a whisper, ‘I have sources who saw the whole thing.’  
‘But that makes no sense,’ Lyall said, his voice had become desperate, ‘he’s always worked alone and he hates wizards. Why would he join Voldemort?’  
‘I can only guess,’ said Dumbledore, ‘though I think I’m right. I believe that he believes Voldemort can offer him more victims. He’ll see it as mutually beneficial. He gets an outlet for his cruelty and Voldemort gains, well, an attack dog that he can threaten his enemies with.’  
Remus was completely lost. He knew the name Voldemort, of course. It was impossible to open a newspaper or turn on the wireless without coming across the name. He and his followers had been leading riots in wizarding communities for the last year, attacking businesses owned by muggles and muggle-borns. But he had no idea who this other, this attack dog that Dumbledore mentioned, might be.  
‘So, what does this mean?’ Hope was speaking now and her voice was worried.  
‘I believe it means that Voldemort is ready to make a bigger move,’ said Dumbledore, ‘he’s long held werewolves in as much contempt as most of the rest of wizards. If he’s willing to recruit Greyback to his cause then it’s only a matter of time. I’ve been trying to tell Eugenia for years that Voldemort is no mere rabble rouser, maybe this will be enough to convince her.’  
‘What can I do?’ the was a kind of ferocity in Lyall’s voice now which alarmed Remus. He was apparently the only one. For Dumbledore spoke now as if he had expected Lyall to react this way.  
‘I know how important this is to you,’ he said, ‘but, for now, we must wait. Voldemort has shown us a glimpse but we have yet to see his full hand. Acting too soon can be quite as disastrous as acting too late. For now, I would ask that you remain aware and vigilant.’  
‘Oh, don’t you worry about that, Professor,’ there was a note of bitter amusement in Lyall’s voice as he spoke, ‘you know what I owe that monster. I’ll see him rot in Azkaban if it’s the last thing I do.’  
There was a pause. Remus wished he was back inside the living room. He heard something that sounded somewhere between a sniff and a cough.  
‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way,’ Dumbledore said, and there was an edge to his voice that Remus had not heard before, ‘Fenrir Greyback is one of the most truly evil people I have ever come across. But the best way to see that he gets what he deserves is to be patient and wait for the right moment to present itself. You are well placed to see when that moment comes, Lyall. Keep your eyes open at work. I have a feeling you won’t need to wait too long.’  
There was the sound of boots on the floor and Remus, just in time, scrabbled up the stairs so that he was out of sight when Dumbledore came into the hall.  
‘Well, I had best be off,’ the headmaster said, ‘there’s a lot to be done, not the least is deciding on a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.’  
‘I thought old Elias Boot got the job last year?’ Lyall asked, all the bitterness that had been in his voice before was now suddenly gone. Remus supposed it was because they expected their voices to carry to his room. They would not know that he had been eavesdropping.  
‘No,’ Dumbledore said, sadly, ‘he came down with a nasty case of spattergroit at the end of the year and had to give up the post. Not to worry, I have a few potentials. But I shan’t bore you with that. Its been a pleasure seeing you, and I’ll look forward to seeing Remus at Hogwarts.’  
Remus heard the click of the door being opened.  
‘Professor,’ Lyall spoke up. Remus could tell this was something he’d wanted to say for a while. There was a pause. Dumbledore had evidently stopped. ‘There were others,’ Lyall said, at last, ‘the same age as Remus, in St. Mungos. Will they be…’  
It seemed Lyall was unable to finish but Remus knew what his father was getting at. The two girls who had been in the ward with him, who had also been bitten. The other werewolves. Remus remained out of sight but strained his ears to listen. Dumbledore’s response was hushed.  
‘No,’ he said, and his voice was almost morose, ‘it seems they’ve joined Him.’ There was a note of disgust in the headmaster’s voice as he said that last word.  
‘What?’ Hope sounded incredulous. ‘But how? Why?’  
‘I don’t think their parents were able to cope as well as you were,’ Dumbledore said sadly, yet also sounding almost sickened, 'I expect Greyback was very understanding and was all too willing to take them in.’  
Remus had heard enough. He really did retreat to his room now, closing the door as gently as he could. A moment later, he heard the front door close and knew that Dumbledore had left.  
He had heard a lot but did not know what it all meant. A lot of it seemed to revolve around this Greyback, whoever he was. From what his father and Dumbledore had said, Remus assumed he was a werewolf. A werewolf who had joined Voldemort. And those two girls who had been in St. Mungos with Remus had left their families to join Greyback?  
It was strange to think that as little as half an hour ago, he had been so excited to be going to Hogwarts. Yet now, all he felt was confusion. Greyback, Voldemort, it was all important for some reason. And his parents had not wanted him to hear, or else why would he have been sent from the room?  
Remus flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. So, who was this Greyback? And what did have to do with him? He already knew the answer, really. It was the only thing that made sense. Greyback must have been the werewolf who had attacked him.  
He still remembered that night. Seeing the monstrous thing coming into his bedroom, the flash of knife-like teeth in the moonlight.  
Why had his parents not told him about Greyback? They had always claimed to not know who the werewolf had been, but from what he had heard, they had known all too well.


	5. Diagon Alley

It was nearly three weeks later when Remus woke up, much earlier than he normally would have, his heart pounding with excitement.  
True it was now less than a fortnight until the next full moon and, as usual, he was starting to feel the effects of the build up to the transformation. The worst of these were the dreams. Remus was beset, almost every night, with nightmares. Flashes of colour, smells and sounds, teeth in the darkness. Remus knew these must be memories from the nights of his transformations. Knowing what they were did not stop him starting awake in the middle of the night, panting heavily and with a cold sweat on his skin. And now, since Dumbledore’s visit, there was a new figure in his dreams. A tall and shadowy man-shape, with claws and a wolfish smile. Remus could never make out the face but knew who it must be. Greyback.  
He had been on Remus’s mind more than anything else in the past weeks. Remus had decided against asking his parents about him. If they had gone this long without telling him about Greyback, it was unlikely they’d tell him everything now. But Remus could not help but think about the werewolf. Who was he? Why had he attacked him? And what had he done that made Dumbledore speak about him with such open hatred?  
But this day was different. For this one day, Remus would even be able to put Greyback out of mind. Because today was the day they would be going to Diagon Alley. He had been looking forward to this for a long time, even more so now that he would be getting his Hogwarts robes as well as a wand and books.  
He threw the covers off his bed, jumped up and rummaged through his drawers for shirt, trousers and underwear. It was only when he was dressed and down the stairs that he realised it was still very early in the morning. The sun might be up but it was still only seven o’clock.  
Sighing with a mixture of disappointment and impatience, Remus went to the kitchen. There was no point in going back upstairs. There was no way he would be able to go back to sleep. He was too excited and had too many thoughts swirling around his head. Places he’d heard of from his father but never seen. Ollivander’s, Gringotts Bank, Flourish and Blotts, Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, so many places he wanted to see for himself, his imagination ran wild picturing these places that he would actually get to see that day.  
He made himself a jam sandwich. For a moment he twirled the butter knife around in a circle, imagining sparks shooting out the end. By tomorrow he would have a real, proper wand, all of his own.  
He brought the sandwich back to the living room and slumped into an armchair. He pulled a book, at random, off the shelf but barely paid any attention to the words written on the pages, nor even what the title of the book was. He shot glances at the clock on the mantelpiece every few minutes.  
Quarter-past seven. Twenty-past seven. Time was moving at a torturing slow speed.  
Finally, at eight o’clock, after what had felt like an eternity to Remus, he finally began to hear stirrings from upstairs.  
He almost threw the book down as he got to his feet and began pacing up and down the living room. Eventually, the living room door opened and a rather sleepy looking Lyall walked into the room, dressed in his usual smart suit beneath a set of black robes. He gave a start when he saw Remus stood there waiting for him.  
‘Merlin’s beard, boy!’ he exclaimed, ‘what are you doing up?’  
Remus thought he might explode soon if they did not go. Lyall caught the expression on his face and seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh.  
‘Little bit excited, are you?’ he asked. Remus didn’t answer. He knew that his father knew all too well how much he’d been looking forward to this day. Lyall chuckled. ‘Your mother will be down in a moment,’ he said, ‘but you know most of the shops won’t be open for another hour.’  
‘But we need to get all the way to London!’ Remus exclaimed. Remus did not know exactly how far it was from Lampeter to London but knew it must be at least a three-hour drive. Lyall was looking at him, he seemed momentarily confused but then seemed to realise what Remus was so worried about.  
‘Ah,’ he said, chuckling again, ‘we’re not going to be driving.’  
Now it was Remus’s turn to be confused.  
‘But mum can’t Apparate,’ he said, ‘how’s she going to get there if we aren’t driving?’  
Lyall smiled a mischievous smile and tapped the side of his nose.  
‘Don’t you worry about that,’ he said, ‘just run out back and grab some logs, would you?’  
Completely nonplussed, Remus moved to obey. By the time he came back, his mother had joined them, dressed for a day out, her expression rather nervous but seeming just as excited as Remus had felt when he had woken up that morning.  
‘…was going to wait until after breakfast,’ his father was saying to her, ‘but I think our little man may just burst if we don’t go this minute. Ah, here he is now.’  
Both his parents turned to him as Remus came back into the room, two fairly large logs in his arms.  
‘Good boy, Remus,’ Lyall said, pulling out his wand, ‘just set them down there.’  
Remus did so then watched, fascinated, as Lyall waved his wand, muttering something. The small living room fire place suddenly began to enlarge itself, the pictures that hung on the wall sliding neatly over to make way for the widening space. When the opening was almost as tall as Lyall, and just as wide, it stopped growing.  
With a swish and a flick, Lyall moved the logs Remus had brought into the enlarged fireplace before pointing his wand at them and saying, ‘Incendio.’  
The logs burst into flames.  
‘Now Remus,’ said Lyall, pulling a small box from a pocket of his robes, ‘we’re going to be travelling by Floo powder today. Your mother’s going to go first, to show you how its done,’ Hope let out a nervous laugh, her eyes fixed on the fire, ‘I would have preferred to use a portkey, really, but the Ministry’s being a bit funny lately about muggles using them so this will have to do. Watch your mum now.’  
Lyall opened the box. Hope reached in and took a pinch of what looked like glittering silver powder. She then advanced towards the fireplace.  
Intrigued, Remus watched. Hope, looking nervous yet confident, dropped the powder onto the fire. At once, the flames turned to emerald green and rose higher.  
‘Diagon Alley!’ Hope said, loudly. Then she stepped into the flames. Before Remus could shout at her to stop, (what was she thinking? She’d get burnt!) there was a loud whoosh and Hope was nowhere to be seen.  
‘You see?’ Lyall said, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, ‘simple as that. Just drop the powder into the fire and say where you want to go. You do need to make sure you speak clearly, though. And keep your elbows tucked in. And be sure not to panic. Wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes either. And whatever you do, don’t step out too early. Just hold back and wait, alright?’  
Not feeling alright at all, Remus nodded his head. He reached out, just as his mother had, and took a handful of the Floo powder. He then turned to the fireplace. The flames, that had returned to their usual colour, seemed very hot all of a sudden. Trying to keep everything his father had told him in mind, he stepped up and held his hand out over the flickering flames.  
‘Remember to speak clearly,’ Lyall said again.  
Remus gulped. Then, before he could think any more about it, he opened his hand and let the powder fall. Again, the flames turned green and rose up high, nearly reaching the same height as himself.  
‘Diagon Alley!’ Remus said, hoping that he had said it clearly enough. He stepped forward into the flames. He had expected heat. His mother had not been burned at all, so clearly the fire wasn’t that hot, but he had expected it to be warm at least. Instead, Remus felt only a pleasant coolness as the green tongues of flame licked at his trousers and shirt sleeves. Not that he was there for long.  
No sooner had he stepped into the fireplace, there was a roar and his living room vanished. It felt as if he were being sucked down a giant plug hole. He felt like he was spinning, around and around, though he couldn’t be sure as his eyes were tight shut. He thought he felt something pass close to his arm and tucked it in tighter.  
He kept on going, spinning around and around, feeling slaps of cold air against his face, as if some giant window were being open and closed quickly in front of him. No sooner had Remus wished that it would be over, then it was. He felt his feet slam into something hard. He staggered, reaching out instinctively to grab something and he opened his eyes.  
He saw his mother, smiling at him. Remus looked around. They seemed to be in a very dark and shabby pub. Small groups sat around little wooden tables, muttering and laughing, drinking from pewter tankards and tall glasses. One old man in the corner was smoking from a long-stemmed pipe, sending smoke rings of every colour into the air so that a rainbow haze seemed to hang above them all. A bald, middle aged man stood behind the bar smiled at them in welcome.  
Hope had taken his hand and led him out of the fireplace, and lucky she had, for a moment later there was a green flash and a pop and Lyall came into view, smartly stepping out of the fireplace as he adjusted his robes.  
‘Well, that was fun,’ he said, smiling at his wife and son, who both smiled back at him weakly. Remus did not know about his mother, but he knew he had not much enjoyed travelling by Floo powder.  
‘Ah, Mr. Lupin,’ the barman spoke up, his voice rather wheezy, ‘the usual?’  
Lyall shook his head.  
‘Not today Tom, just passing through.’ He rested his hand on Remus’s shoulder. The barman nodded, then went back to cleaning glasses.  
Lyall led Hope and Remus through the pub and out the back door into a small, walled courtyard where there was nothing but weeds and a single dustbin.  
‘What are we doing out here?’ Remus asked, ‘I thought we were going to Diagon Alley.’  
Lyall chuckled, pulling out his wand.  
‘You just give me a moment,’ he said, before tapping the wall with his wand.  
The brick he had tapped quivered. Then it started to move. In the middle, a small hole appeared which then grew wider and wider. A second later they were facing an archway large enough for several people to walk through abreast, an archway on to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.  
‘Here we are,’ Lyall said, matter-of-factly, ‘Diagon Alley.’  
Remus felt as if his eyes might drop out of his sockets, he was goggling so hard at everything around him. Together, the three Lupins stepped through the archway. Glancing over his shoulder, Remus saw the archway shrink back into solid wall.  
That hardly mattered, not when there was so much to see here. Everywhere he turned, there was something new to look at. A pile of cauldrons lay outside the nearest shop, across from a little protective charm boutique with trays displaying row upon row of amulets and talismans in different sizes, shapes and colours.  
'We’ll need to head to Gringotts first,’ Lyall muttered. Neither Remus nor his mother answered. Hope seemed to be as entranced by everything around her as her son was.  
Lyall led them along the street towards a building much larger than the others. It was snowy-white and looked a lot older than any of the shops. Along the way, Remus started noticing something about the people in Diagon Alley. There were a lot of them, families as well as individual shoppers, all coming and going from the shops or else stopping to talk in the streets.  
They were smiling, talking about their children going to Hogwarts, about recent results in the Quidditch League (The Wimbourne Wasps were apparently rising in the league), or else complaining about the rising price of dragon liver. But all had the same look in their eyes. There was a nervousness there, as if everyone were on edge about something, shooting quick glances towards the ends of the road or at the side streets, as if expecting some monster to appear, then just as quickly returning to what they had been doing. Even Hope, looking with interest at an apothecary’s display of newt brains, and Lyall, who was eyeing the shop front of Dipwy’s Defensive Aids, had the same nervousness. Remus didn’t know what to make of it. What was making everyone act this way?  
They arrived at the doors to Gringotts, large and made of burnished bronze, beside which stood a goblin in scarlet and gold uniform. Remus had known the bank was run by goblins but had never seen one before. He had to stop himself staring. The goblin was a little shorter than Remus with a very bald head, putting him in mind of a dumpling. He had a swarthy, mischievous face which twisted into a smirking smile as he bowed to them.  
Lyall said nothing to the goblin but pushed open the doors. Inside was another set of doors, these ones silver, with words engraved upon them:  
Enter Stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn,  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.  
‘So let that be a warning to you,’ Lyall said. He sounded like he was only half joking.  
They were bowed through the silver doors by two more goblins and then found themselves in an enormous marble hall. The sight was quite as amazing to Remus as the first look at Diagon Alley had been. There were goblins everywhere. Walking to and fro across the hall or else sitting on stools behind a high wooden counter, writing on long rolls of parchment, or else in ledgers thicker than any book Remus had ever seen. Others were weighing coins and gems on scales, peering at them through eyeglasses. Remus saw one goblin walk through with five black, fluffy creatures with long snouts on leashes. They were all pulling in every direction, as if they were trying to get at something. There were dozens of doors leading off from the hall and yet more goblins were leading people in and out of these.  
The Lupins made for the counter.  
‘Good morning,’ Lyall said, pleasantly to one of the goblins writing in a ledger who looked up, ‘my name is Lyall Lupin, I’ve come to make a withdrawal.’  
‘You have your key, sir?’  
Lyall held up a small, golden key and placed it gently on the counter where the goblin examined it.  
‘That seems to be in order,’ he said before picking up a silver bell in his long-fingered hands and giving it a ring. Another goblin appeared as if from nowhere, ‘Gornuk will take you down to your vault,’ the goblin behind the counter said before returning to his numbers as if there had been no interruption.  
The Lupins followed Gornuk towards one of the doors leading off the hall where he held the door open for them. Remus had been expecting another grand hallway and so was surprised to see a narrow, stone passageway lit with burning torches. He noticed there were metal rails embedded in the floor. Gornuk whistled and a small cart hurtled towards them from up the tunnel, stopping abruptly when it reached them. They climbed in and, almost immediately, the cart began moving again.  
They hurtled at amazing speed through the stone passages. Remus gave up trying to tell what direction they were going in and so just focussed on trying not to feel too sick or feel worried by the fact that Gornuk did not appear to be steering the cart. Hope screamed every time the cart made a sharp turn, which it did rather often, while Lyall actually seemed to be enjoying himself.  
They stopped, at last, outside a small door in the passage wall. Gornuk hopped down from the cart and unlocked the door with the key Lyall gave him. A lot of green smoke came billowing out as the door opened which made Remus cough and splutter. By the time it cleared, Lyall was already in the vault piling silver and gold into a bag.  
‘That should be enough,’ he said, looking into the bag, ‘I suppose we can always come back if we need more.’  
Hope groaned at that. Lyall gave her a fond look before walking out of the vault which Gornuk locked behind him.  
One more cart ride later and they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Remus felt like a ball of energy, eager to go now that they had the money.  
‘You have your letter on you, Remus?’ Lyall’s voice cut into his excited reverie. Remus started before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the envelope. The Hogwarts letter had come with a list of books and equipment and Remus had carried that on him ever since the night Dumbledore had delivered the letter.  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY  
Uniform  
First-year students will require:  
1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2\. On plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

Set Books  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment  
1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set of glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad  
‘We should probably start with your uniform,’ said Lyall, who was also reading the letter over Remus’s shoulder. He pointed towards a very elegant looking shopfront, the sign above the door reading Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.  
‘Why don’t you two go ahead,’ Hope said, her eyes going to a wooden bench close-by, ‘I think I’m going to have a little sit down for a while.’ She did look a little green and so Lyall and Remus headed for the shop without her, though Remus noticed Lyall shooting her a nervous look as they entered the shop.  
No sooner had they entered then they were greeted by the rather squat and very smiley Madam Malkin herself.  
‘Hogwarts?’ she asked, before either Lyall or Remus could speak, ‘not a problem. I’m just finishing with another boy but Sandra can help you.’  
In the back of the shop, a boy with rather untidy, jet-black hair was standing on a footstool wearing long black robes. Lyall went to have a look at some new work robes while Madam Malkin stood Remus on a stool next to the other boy and returned to the other boy while a second witch, who Remus assumed was Sandra, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.  
‘Hi,’ said the boy with black hair, smiling, ‘you going to Hogwarts too?’  
‘Yes,’ said Remus.  
‘Cool,’ said the boy, ‘I can’t wait. My mum and dad have gone to buy my books and then we’re going to get my wand.’ He spoke quite quickly, obviously excited, and with a confidence Remus had never heard from someone his own age. It was a bit disconcerting. ‘Then I’m going to drag them down to Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at brooms. I don’t think I could go to Hogwarts without my own. Have you got a broom?’  
The question took Remus aback.  
‘No,’ he blurted out.  
‘What?’ the boy exclaimed, apparently incredulous, ‘don’t you play Quidditch or anything?’  
‘No,’ Remus said again. He’d not ever had much interest in Quidditch. The boy looked as if he were about to say something but then shrugged as if it wasn’t important. He ran a hand through his hair, making it, if possible, even messier.  
‘I do. Been flying for years. I’m definitely going to try out for the house team. I mean, just because I’m a first year doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try, right? Know what house you’ll be in yet?’  
‘No,’ said Remus, feeling a little foolish. He’d been so happy to just be allowed to go to Hogwarts, he hadn’t given the school houses any thought.  
‘Well I guess no one knows until they get there. I’m hoping for Gryffindor, like my dad, but I guess they’re all ok. Except Slytherin, God I think I’d leave, right?’  
‘Errm,’ Remus said, but was saved from having to come up with anything else by Madam Malkin saying,  
‘Okay my dear, you’re all done.’ And the black-haired boy hopped down from the footstool.  
‘Well I’ll see you at school,’ he said, with a broad smile. He paid for his robes, which were placed in a soft bag, before leaving the shop. Remus watched him go. So that was going to be one of his classmates at school. He supposed the boy had been friendly enough, though he had seemed to take for granted that he’d be put where he wanted.  
Just one of the people I’ll have to hide what I am from, he thought, gloomily.  
A short while later, his own robes were done then he and Lyall left the shop. After retrieving a much less sickly-looking Hope from her bench, they went to Flourish and Blotts to buy the books on Remus’s list. The shelves were stacked to the ceilings with books of every conceivable size and shape, bound in wood and leather, from books big enough for Remus to think they would be impossible to carry, to books so small they could be slipped into his breast pocket. Remus, who had always been an avid reader, had to be almost restrained by his parents, who reminded him that he’d have plenty to read with his first-year spell books.  
They then visited the apothecary for potion supplies, the cauldron shop and Simian’s Star Supplies where they picked up a collapsible telescope that had an attachment for star charts.  
‘Just the wand now,’ said Lyall, his arms laden with boxes and bags. He looked down at his son, coyly, knowing full well that Remus’s heart had just gone into overdrive. This was what he’d been looking forward to most. Hope chuckled happily.  
They arrived outside a narrow and rather shabby shop. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion, though it was almost unseeable through the dust on the window.  
A bell tinkled somewhere in the shop as they pushed open the door. It was a very narrow place, empty except for two spindly chairs that Lyall and Hope took to wait. Remus felt as if he’d just walked into a funeral home. He looked around at the narrow boxes that were piled neatly up to the ceiling. The back of his neck prickled, knowing what was in them.   
‘Good afternoon,’ said a soft voice. Remus jumped and span around.  
A very old man was standing there. Had he Apparated? Remus was sure he had not been there a moment ago. He had very wide, pale eyes and hair whiter than the freshest snow, so white it seemed to glow in the gloom of the shop.  
‘Hello,’ said Remus.  
‘Ah good afternoon, Master Lupin,’ said the man, turning his lamp like eyes on Lyall, ‘it seems like only yesterday you were in here buying your first wand, Lyall Lupin. Ten and five eighths, swishy and made of dogwood, that was it. A good wand for charms, as I recall.’  
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Lyall, his hand going to the pocket where he kept his wand.  
‘It’s still working well for you? Ollivander asked.  
‘Yes, absolutely,’ Lyall said, a little stiffly. Ollivander’s eyes lingered on Lyall for a moment, before moving to Hope.  
‘I don’t think I ever made a wand for you, Madam,’ he said, slowly.  
‘Oh no,’ said Hope, a little flustered, ‘I’m a muggle.’  
‘Ah,’ Ollivander let the sound out like wind through an old door. The sound sent shivers up Remus’s spine. Ollivander said no more to Hope, instead turning his attention on Remus.  
‘Well then, Master Lupin, let see.’ He pulled a long tape measure out of his pocket. ‘If you would hold out your wand arm for me.’  
Remus held up his right arm and Ollivander set to work measuring. First from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. It was only as the tape measure was snaking around Remus’s waist that he realised Ollivander wasn’t holding it anymore. The tape measure was moving on its own while Mr. Ollivander was moving from shelf to shelf, taking down boxes.  
‘That’s enough,’ he said and immediately the tape measure fell to the floor, as if it had been held up by strings that had just been cut. ‘Right then, Master Lupin. Try this one first, Oak with a core of phoenix feather, twelve inches, rather supple. Just give it a wave.’  
Remus took the wand and was about to do just that but, before he could, the wand was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.  
‘Ash and dragon heartstring. Nine and a half inches, rigid.’  
Remus took it and again it was taken off him by Ollivander before he could so much as flick it.  
‘Never mind, try this one. Rowan and unicorn hair, twelve- and three-quarter inches, quite springy. Go on, have a go.’  
Remus did. Just as he had a go with the ebony, sycamore and elder wands that Mr. Ollivander placed in his hand before snatching them away.  
‘I think we have a winner here,’ he said, holding out another one, ‘ten and a quarter inches, made of Cypress with a unicorn hair core. Pliable.’  
Remus took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He whirled the wand in an arc around his head, sending out a shower of red and gold sparks.  
Both Lyall and Hope cheered and clapped while Mr. Ollivander smiled a strange smile.  
‘Ah, excellent,’ he said, ’very good. Well that certainly is a relief.’  
‘What do you mean?’ Remus asked, still enjoying the feeling of the wand in his hand.  
‘Oh, merely that we were able to find the right wand for you,’ Mr. Ollivander said, though Remus saw him slip another wand back into its box as he spoke and place it carefully back on its shelf.  
Remus shivered. Something about that wand had given him a feeling of sickness, similar to that which began hitting him before the full moon.  
They paid seven Galleons for the wand and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from the shop.


	6. The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

The last few weeks before Remus left for school seemed to drag by unbearably slowly. Lyall and Hope tried to help as much as they could. They took Remus on days out to the park, hiking trips on the local hills and mountains, or else to Carmarthen or Swansea to go to the cinema or the seaside. Though these days out did help a little, they did not make Remus forget how excited he was about Hogwarts which, of course, meant that the days still dragged by no matter how much fun he had with his parents.  
Though these trips had to cease during the week leading up to the full moon in August. Remus was too weak to travel anywhere and, after the fiasco of the school trip, Hope insisted on keeping Remus indoors a full two days after the transformation before he was allowed out again.   
The neighbours, who had welcomed the Lupins very warmly, had offered their sympathy and help when they’d heard that Remus was ill, after asking why they hadn’t seen him about these past few days. Alfred Jones and his wife had brought round some welsh cakes the day before the full moon, ‘always make me feel better,’ while Blodwen Jenkins had offered to help with the grocery shopping if Hope needed to stay home.  
They had all been most alarmed by the inevitable howling and snarling they had heard from the house the night of the full moon.  
‘Thought there was a wild animal in here, I did,’ Ms Jenkins said the next morning when she’d come around to check on them.  
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Lyall had said, his hand on his wand behind his back. Pale green light was pulsing at its tip and Remus knew his father was casting a memory charm. ‘Just a friend’s dog we were looking after for the night.’  
‘Yes,’ Ms Jenkins said, her eyes slightly out of focus, a dreamy expression on her face, ‘yes, of course that’s what it was. Well I’ll see you later.’ She’d left then, swaying only slightly and just for a moment, before heading back to her own house.  
When he wasn’t out with his parents, and felt well enough to read, Remus kept to his room, laying on his bed, reading through his new school books. There was much more theory to spellcasting than he had first thought. All these years, he had thought casting spells was just about waving your wand and saying the right magic word. And while that was part of it, there was so much more that he hadn’t expected. For even the simplest spell, you had to be in the right frame of mind, be concentrating wholly on what you were trying to do, understand what flows and types of magic you were tapping into and so much more.   
Remus had dived straight into The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) when he’d got home but had immediately become completely lost. It became clear that, without understanding the basics of magical theory, reading a spell book was almost completely pointless. And so, he had, grudgingly, taken up Magical Theory. He had expected a very dull, very dry, read with a lot of complicated words and lengthy, rambling paragraphs. But he was pleasantly surprised. The book was long, and there was quite a bit of rambling, but it explained magic in such an interesting way that Remus found himself halfway through the book before he realised it, and would not have realised at all if his mother hadn’t come in to tell him it was time for bed.  
And that was to say nothing about Magical Drafts and Potions, and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Remus had not realised how much there was to magic without the wand waving and magic words.  
So, he passed the days reading his books, cover to cover, again and again. By the time the end of August came around, he’d almost worn the cover off his copy of A History of Magic, he had read it so many times.  
Finally, the day came. It was the thirty-first of August and Lyall and Hope spent most of the evening fussing and worrying.  
‘Do you have enough pairs of underpants?’ Hope fretted from the kitchen where she was making a packed lunch for the next day, ‘how many socks do you think he’ll need?’ This second question was directed at Lyall who was crouched next to Remus in the living room, busily packing a large, rather shabby, trunk that Lyall said had been his when he had gone to Hogwarts.  
‘If we use your socks to pad the area around the phials, that’ll make sure they won’t get smashed,’ Lyall muttered as they packed before calling, ‘I’m sure this will be enough, we can always send more with Simargl if he needs them.’  
Remus heard his mother make an impatient grunting noise, as if she found Lyall’s disregard for socks to be entirely reckless, before returning to the chicken sandwich she was making.   
‘Are you alright, lad?’   
Remus jumped and turned to see Lyall looking at him, concerned.  
‘Oh yes, I’m fine,’ Remus said, forcing a smile to his face. The truth was that he was not sure how he felt. He was still excited to go to Hogwarts, of course. He’d been wanting that for as long as he could remember and for his wish to have come true was beyond belief. But now the day was actually here, it had finally hit him that he would be leaving his home, leaving his parents, for the first time, and going away to a place where he knew nobody, and who would know exactly what a werewolf was, that they were real, and would likely turn on him if they ever found out. He was scared, nervous and excited all at the same time. But he didn’t know how to put that into words.  
Lyall’s expression was understanding and Remus realised his father would know something of what he was feeling. He’d once left home for Hogwarts, after all.  
The next day dawned sunny, but chilly. Remus was up at six o’clock, not that he’d slept much during the night anyway, and was downstairs and dressed for two hours before his parents.  
‘You’re making a habit of this,’ Lyall smiled at his son, who had been re-reading The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection for the fourth time while he’d been waiting. Hope yawned and made them all some toast. Then they loaded Remus’s trunk into the boot of the car and they were off.   
Remus kept worriedly looking at the small clock on the dashboard. He knew that the train to Hogwarts left from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at eleven o’clock. It was a long way to London. Were they going to make it in time?  
He was surprised when Lyall turned off the motorway towards Cardiff and began following signs for the station.  
‘Where are we going?’ Remus asked, confused, ‘I thought we were going to London?’  
‘We are,’ Lyall said, knowingly, ‘this is a shortcut.’  
They pulled into the carpark of Cardiff Central, hauled Remus’s trunk out of the boot and began walking towards the station. Remus was still puzzled. Were they going to get a train from here to King’s Cross?  
But, just as he was about to walk through the station entrance, Lyall took him by the shoulder and steered him around the side of the station where there was nothing but a blank wall, a couple of bins and a worn out looking vending machine.  
‘What…’ Remus began but he was shushed by his mother. Lyall strode forward, confidently, and, after checking to make sure no one else was around, pulled out his wand and tapped the button panel of the vending machine three times.   
‘Right,’ he said, satisfied, ‘you first with your trunk, Remus. We’ll follow after you.’  
Feeling very confused now, but egged on by his mother, Remus pulled his trunk behind him and approached the vending machine. He saw there was nothing inside but one, rather old and manky looking marathon bar.  
‘Just step in,’ Lyall encouraged him, ‘you can close your eyes if it helps.’  
Taking a deep breath, but knowing now there was something magical going on, Remus held his breath and walked towards the vending machine. It did not look any less solid the closer he got to it. He kept on moving forward and, just when it seemed like his head was going to bounce off the glass front, he was suddenly aware of a coolness around him and a rushing of air. It was as if he had been submerged into a flowing stream. For a second, everything went dark, then just as quickly colour flooded back to the world.  
A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead read Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock. Remus looked behind him in time to see Lyall and Hope step out of a solid brick wall, surrounded by a wrought iron archway with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters painted on it.  
Lyall laughed at the stunned expression on his son’s face.  
‘Well you can’t expect everyone to come all the way to London to catch the train, can you?’ Lyall explained, ‘I mean, think of muggle-borns living in Edinburgh. Doesn’t make sense for them to come all the way down south just to go all the way back again. So, Gateways were created around the country, linking most major stations with Kings Cross. That way, you can catch the train without having to drive hundreds of miles.’  
Remus didn’t answer. It all made sense. He just turned around to take in the scene around him. Smoke from the engine drifted over the crowd of parents and children. A few were already wearing Hogwarts robes. Remus’s were in his trunk, he’d decided to change on the train. Above the chatter, Remus could hear the hoots and screeches of owls in cages and the soft meows of the cats that were stalking around, between legs, looking up predatorily at some of the smaller owls.  
The first few carriages were already full of students. Some were leaning out of the windows for some final words with their parents while others were sat back in their seats, chatting away with their friends. Remus, assisted by his father, carried his trunk down the platform, in search of an empty seat. He passed by a small boy with mousy brown hair and rather watery blue eyes who was looking through his trunk, rather frantically, saying, ‘Mum, I can’t find my box of frogspawn.’  
‘Oh, Peter,’ the rather stern-faced woman standing next to him sighed.  
A little further up, a pair of boys were crouching beside a small crate, giggling mischievously. Two girls and another boy were leaning over them.  
‘What is it?’ One of the girls demanded.  
‘Come on, Evan, what did you find?’ The other boy asked. In answer, one of the two by the crate lifted the lid, ever so slightly, allowing a puff of dark smoke and a small shower of sparks to spit out onto the platform.   
The Lupins pushed on through the crowd, both Hope and Remus looking in wonder in all directions, until they reached the end of the train. There they finally found an empty compartment. Together, Remus and Lyall heaved the trunk up the steps and onto the train then Lyall hoisted it up into the overhead storage in the compartment.   
‘There we go,’ Lyall said, blowing out his cheeks, ‘you’re ready to go.’ He turned a smiling face to Remus who tried his best to mirror his father’s expression, though he did not feel as excited as he thought he should. Lyall knelt down and gave his son a hug. ‘It’s going to be strange at first,’ he said, ‘but I think, pretty soon, you’ll be having the time of your life.’  
‘What if someone finds out?’ It was the fact that they were about to part ways for months that had finally caused Remus to speak up about what was worrying him most about going to Hogwarts. At muggle school, if anyone had found out something about him or started to think him a little odd, he could avoid them, stay at home with his parents, or they had been able to move away. That was not going to be an option anymore.  
Lyall pulled away but kept his hands resting on Remus’s shoulders, meeting his eyes. Remus could tell his father was trying to decide what to say.  
‘Dumbledore will make sure that doesn’t happen,’ he said, reassuringly. He stood up, ‘and who knows,’ he went on, ‘you might find someone who doesn’t even mind.’  
Remus doubted that very much but it was a nice thought so he didn’t say anything.  
A whistle sounded.  
‘Lyall!’ Remus heard his mother call from the platform, ‘Lyall hurry!’   
Lyall turned out the compartment and hopped out onto the platform. For one second, Remus was tempted to jump after him. But then his father turned and closed the carriage door. Remus leant out of the small window.  
‘Have a good term,’ Lyall said, smiling warmly, ‘see you for Christmas.’  
‘Take care,’ Hope said, giving Remus a quick hug through the window, ‘write to us if you need anything.’  
The train began to move. Along the platform, Remus could see parents, siblings and everyone else shouting and waving goodbye. Some younger brothers and sisters were running, trying to keep up with the train. Remus turned and watched his parents get smaller and smaller until the train rounded the corner and they disappeared from sight.  
Remus heaved a heavy sigh. This was it. He was on his own. There was a strange feeling rolling in his stomach, a curious blend of terror and excitement. Without anything else to do, he turned around and went back to his compartment.  
He walked past two before reaching his own, both of them full of students talking and laughing. Remus thought he saw the boy he’d met in Madam Malkins in one of them, chatting with a boy with long, dark hair and a handsome face who was lounging on the seats opposite. He thought about joining them in there, he did not know the boy particularly well but he had seemed friendly enough and at least he was a familiar face. But the compartment was already pretty full so he carried on back to his empty compartment and sat down next to the window.  
No sooner had he done this, however, then the compartment door slid open to reveal the mousey boy Remus had seen on the platform, the one who’d lost his frogspawn.   
‘Um, hi,’ the boy said, nervously, ‘sorry, is anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full.’  
Remus shook his head and the boy smiled gratefully before coming into the compartment, pulling the door closed behind him, and seating himself opposite Remus.  
‘Did you find your frogspawn?’ Remus asked. He’d meant it as a polite question but the boy jumped as if he’d been electrocuted and looked at Remus suspiciously. It was only then that Remus realised the boy hadn’t seen him then and this must have seemed an odd question from his perspective. ‘I overheard on the platform,’ Remus explained, quickly.  
The other boy seemed to relax.  
‘Yes,’ he said, glumly, ‘it was buried at the bottom of my trunk. The box cracked and now its leaked everywhere.’  
‘I’m sure they’ll be able to clean it at Hogwarts,’ Remus tried to reassure him. The other boy nodded but said nothing and just looked out the window, glum expression still on his face. ‘I’m Remus, by the way,’ said Remus, trying to change the subject, ‘Remus Lupin.’  
‘I’m Peter Pettigrew,’ the boy said, shortly, not taking his eyes from the window.  
Remus thought quickly. He must not be making a very good first impression.  
‘Are all your family wizards?’ He asked  
Peter jumped, he had clearly not been expecting the question.  
‘Why?’ His voice had a strange note to it, an almost suspicious one.  
‘No real reason,’ Remus said, feeling more than a little exasperated, ‘I’ve just never met any other wizards my age.’  
Peter seemed to regard him for moment, those watery eyes seemed to be trying to see through him, like Dumbledore’s did, to find the truth. He seemed to find it because he visibly relaxed, if only a little.  
‘Everyone on my mum’s side,’ he said, rather quickly, ‘I don’t know about my dad. He left when I was little. My mother doesn’t like talking about him.’ An awkward silence followed this, clearly the subject was uncomfortable for Peter. ‘What about you?’ His voice had become somewhat squeaky at this.  
‘My father is,’ Remus said, quickly, as eager for the change of subject as Peter, ‘he works for the Ministry.’  
‘Really?’ Peter asked, interested, ‘what does he do?’  
‘The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,’ Remus recited, proudly, ‘specialising in Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions,’ he hoped he’d gotten that right. Peter was looking mystified. ‘He knows more about boggarts and things like that than any other wizard.’ He explained.  
Comprehension dawned on Peter’s face, he even looked impressed.  
‘That’s amazing,’ he said, ‘my mum doesn’t work for the ministry but she is an expert on muggle relations so she does a lot of consulting with them.’  
Having spent all his life around muggles, Remus was interested to know what was involved with muggle relations in the ministry and was about to ask Peter for more details when the door to their compartment slid open.  
A very pretty girl with long, red hair came in, closely followed by a short, skinny boy with sallow skin and rather unkempt, greasy hair. The girl looked annoyed, almost insulted by something; the boy, who was already wearing his Hogwarts robes, just looked sullen.  
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said the girl, ‘we needed to find a different compartment. There were some really stupid boys in the last one.’   
‘Err,’ was all Remus was able to say before the girl sat down beside Peter, leaving the sullen boy to take the seat beside Remus.  
‘You’re not hoping to be in Gryffindor, are you?’ the girl asked, coldly. Remus could not tell who the question was directed at.  
‘Gryffindor?’ he asked, ‘I hadn’t really thought about it. My dad was in Gryffindor but I don’t really care where I end up.’ This was the truth, though Remus supposed it would be nice to be in the same house his father had been in. He was still just grateful for being allowed to go. This answer seemed to meet with the girl’s approval because her sour expression immediately vanished and became a warm smile. Remus couldn’t help but notice her eyes. Bright green and dazzling. He’d never seen eyes like them.  
‘I’m Lily,’ the girl said, ‘Lily Evans. And this is Severus.’   
‘I’m Remus Lupin,’ said Remus, reaching forward, awkwardly, to shake hands. Lily returned the shake, smiling that warm smile again. Remus turned to offer the same shake to Severus, then stopped. If Lily’s smile was warming, the look Severus was giving him could have given ice lessons in coldness. He sat with his arms tightly folded, something that might have been a sneer touching his lips. His eyes were deep and dark, like a long tunnel.  
‘Peter Pettigrew,’ Peter piped up. He didn’t try to shake either hand but Remus saw he was regarding Severus with narrowed eyes.   
They were a long way out of London by now, speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. Remus was well used to sights like this, having grown up in the more rural areas of the country, but Peter had his nose almost pressed against the window, watching the fields and lanes flick past.  
It was at around half past twelve that there was a great clattering from outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimple cheeked woman slid back the door.  
‘Anything off the trolley, dears?’  
Remus was feeling more than a little peckish by this time, having not eaten much breakfast, leapt to his feet. He’d been given some money by his father and wasted no time in buying a good armful of Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees, which had always been his favourite, and a few Cauldron Cakes. Peter also bought a few Chocolate Frogs, though he did not seem to have the same appetite. Lily seemed to be in some confusion about the options.  
‘I’m used to Marathon bars and things like that,’ she said, defensively when Severus asked her, incredulously, how she could not know what she wanted. Remus understood.  
‘You’re muggle born, aren’t you?’   
‘So what if she is?’ Severus demanded before Lily could open her mouth. Remus was taken aback.  
‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘I was just…’  
‘It was just a question,’ Peter said, waspishly, ‘what’s your problem?’  
Remus was surprised. Peter was looking at Severus with ill-disguised dislike. Was he sticking up for him?  
Severus rounded on Peter but before he could open his mouth, Lily cut across him. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, giving Severus a strange look before turning back to Remus, ‘yes I am.’  
‘I never met any witches or wizards my age,’ Remus said, hurriedly. He felt like he was saying that to everyone. He wished he didn’t sound so defensive.   
Lily was smiling at him. ‘It's fine,’ she said, shooting that same strange look at Severus. Remus noticed she also gave Peter the same look. ‘What would you recommend, Sev?’  
The sound of her saying his name snapped Severus out of the staring match he seemed to be having with Peter. He turned to face Lily and Remus was surprised, and a little shocked, at the transformation he saw in his face.   
‘Every Flavour Beans are my favourite,’ he said, smiling a smile that even Remus thought wolfish, ‘I’ll buy you a box.’  
Remus hadn’t been able to stomach Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans ever since he’d accidentally eaten a blood flavoured one, mistaking it for strawberry, and it had triggered some flashes of memory from the nights of the full moon when he’d gotten loose but he resisted the urge to warn Lily off for fear of receiving another acid look from Severus.  
They had a good time eating their sweets, though Lily did spit a mouthful of Every-Flavour Bean on the floor. “Beetroot!’ she said, gagging. Severus and Peter spent much of the time giving each other dirty looks, though Severus did shoot a couple of nasty looks Remus’s way whenever he spoke to Lily. After a while, Remus stopped noticing. He was enjoying talking to Lily. Their conversation had moved onto the classes they would be taking. Remus was relieved to hear that he was not the only one to have read all the books, cover to cover, already. This revelation was enough to get Severus and Peter to stop their staring match long enough to look at the two of them, incredulously.   
The conversation only ended when they were interrupted by the door sliding open to reveal two dark haired boys wearing their Hogwarts robes, both grinning maliciously.  
‘We’re nearly there, Snivellus,’ one of them said, ‘didn’t you tell your girlfriend she needs to get her robes on before we arrive?’   
Remus thought he looked familiar but before he could remember the door slid shut. Remus heard the two of them laughing as they walked away. Remus turned to ask what that had been about but seeing Lily’s face, which had become thunderous, he decided against it.  
‘We probably should get our robes on,’ he said to Peter, instead. Peter nodded and reached up to his trunk. Remus did the same.  
‘We should go get our trunks,’ Lily said to Severus. Severus hopped up, clearly eager to be gone. Lily rose more gracefully to her feet and turned back to Remus. ‘It was nice meeting you,’ she said, ‘see you later.’ She gave Peter a small smile before following Severus out of the compartment.   
Remus and Peter pulled on their long black robes. Remus, looking out of the window, saw mountains and forests under a deep-purple sky.  
A voice echoed through the train. ‘We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.’  
Nerves washed over Remus like a crashing wave. Peter looked little better, the small boy was nearly vibrating. They put the last of their sweets in their pockets and joined the throng of students filling the corridors.  
The train slowed to a stop and there was a great push towards the doors. Remus was jostled out onto the dark platform. Turning around, he saw Peter keeping pace with him. He was glad. He did not know if he could call Peter a friend yet but he was at least a familiar face in the crowd of strangers.  
Turning around again, Remus felt nervous. What were they supposed to do now?  
Then he saw a lantern bobbing towards them in the dark.   
‘Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here!’   
Remus felt his eyes widen. A giant of a man came into view. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. His eyes, lit up by the lantern, were beetle black and seemed to twinkle.   
‘C’mon, follow me – any more firs’-years to come? Gulpin’ gargoyles!’ The enormous man was now standing in front of Remus, looking down on him in surprise, ‘Yer never Lyall’s boy?’   
For a moment, Remus had no idea what to say. But then realisation dawned on him.  
‘You’re Hagrid, aren’t you?’   
The man beamed through his beard.  
‘Yer dad said you’d be comin’ this year,’ Hagrid said, ‘blimey you look a lot like ‘im.’   
Remus smiled back. He always enjoyed hearing that. Hagrid lifted his lantern up higher.  
‘We’ll chat later, Lupin,’ said Hagrid, ‘right, firs’-years follow me!’  
Hagrid turned and led them along a steep, narrow path. It was so dark either side of them, but Remus could smell the woodland that must be spreading out to either side of them. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He looked up. The moon was almost full. He’d checked the calendar; the full moon would be that Sunday.  
‘Yeh’ll see Hogwarts in jus’ a sec,’ Hagrid called back over his shoulder, ‘it's quite a sight, jus’ you wait.’  
There was a loud gasp.  
Perched atop a high mountain on the other side of a huge, black lake, its windows bright and reflecting in the surface of the water, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.  
‘Four to a boat!’ Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats waiting in the water. Remus and Peter were joined in their boat by two girls, one with shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair, the other with her dark hair tied back in a long plait.   
‘Everyone in?’ shouted Hagrid, who had a boat all to himself. ‘Right then – FORWARD!’  
The boats all moved off all together, they glided across the lake as smooth as swans. The only interruption was when they had to bow their heads to avoid a curtain of ivy that hung over the entrance to harbour beneath the castle where they climbed out onto the rocks and pebbles.  
They climbed a flight of stone steps and crowded around a large, oak front door. Hagrid, after making sure everyone was there, raised a gigantic fist and banged on the door three times.


	7. The Sorting Hat

The door swung open immediately to reveal a poker thin witch dressed formally in emerald green robes. Her hair was tied back in a severe bun that matched her very severe expression. Remus made a mental note to make sure he did not get on the wrong side of her, whoever she was.  
‘Here y’are, Professor McGonagall,’ said Hagrid, he was smiling yet he looked at the woman with deep respect, ‘the firs’years for ye.’   
‘Thank you, Hagrid. I’ll take them from here.’   
Hagrid nodded and turned his warm smile on the first years, dropping a encouraging wink to Remus, before striding past Professor McGonagall and into the castle. Remus thought he heard mutters about Hagrid from the back of their group but when he turned around, he could not make out who it had been.  
The door had been thrown wide so that Hagrid could get inside and Remus felt his jaw drop when he looked in. The Entrance Hall was enormous, Remus thought it would have been possible to fit his last school in there twice, side by side, with room to spare. He could not even see the ceiling. An immense marble staircase led to the upper floors and Remus saw that each landing was lined with flaming torches, just as the entrance hall was.  
Professor McGonagall led the first years across the flagged stone floor of the hall. From a doorway to the right, Remus heard the drone of hundreds of voices. His father had told him the rest of the school were taken to the castle in carriages that were pulled by magic while the first years went by boat over the lake. Apparently, it was a tradition going back centuries.   
Remus expected Professor McGonagall to lead them through that door by they walked right past it and instead were crowded in to a small empty chamber off the hall. Once everyone was inside, standing closer together than Remus would have liked, Professor McGonagall turned to face them.  
‘Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses.’ Her voice had an almost robotic tone to it, as if she had learned what she was saying by heart. Remus wondered how many times she had delivered this speech. ‘The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like you family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.  
‘The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.’  
‘The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I shall return when we are ready for you.’ And with that, Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and left the chamber.  
Remus suppressed a smile. The full moon was only four days away and already his body was beginning to make itself ready for the transformation. One of the effects of these changes was a heightening of his senses. McGonagall put up a very convincing severe front, but Remus had been able to hear her heart beating like a drum. She had been nervous. Perhaps she had not delivered that speech very often at all.   
Probably not a good idea to test her though, Remus though soberly.  
Peter nudged him in the side.  
‘Do you know how they sort us?’ he whispered. He was not the only one. All around them, several first years were asking each other how the process worked, some looking excited, others terrified.  
‘My dad told me about the Sorting Hat…’ Remus began.  
‘That’s right,’ a voice spoke up from behind them. Remus turned to see one of the boys who had taunted Severus and Lily on the train, the one with untidy, jet-black hair. The other, who had slightly longer and much better-groomed hair, stood beside him looking coolly bored. ‘You put on the hat and it tells you what house you’re going to be in. Simple enough, right?’  
Suddenly Remus remembered where he’d seen the boy before.  
‘You were in Madam Malkins!’ he exclaimed. The boy looked taken aback for a minute then smiled.  
‘Oh yeah!’ he said, ‘sorry, didn’t recognise you before.’  
‘How does the hat tell you what house you’re going to be in?’ Peter, apparently not one to be left out of a conversation, chimed in. Remus heard the same question asked by a few who had overheard the messy-haired boy. He and his friend looked at Peter as if he’d asked how birds fly.  
‘It says the name of the house,’ the longer-haired boy said, slowly, looking at Peter as if he might be dim. Peter flushed a little.  
‘I didn’t get your name before,’ Remus said quickly, as much to change the subject as out of genuine interest.   
The messy haired boy seemed to take Remus’s intent. Though he gave Peter an amused look he stretched out a hand. ‘Potter, James Potter. This is Sirius Black.’  
Remus shook the hand and gave a nod to Sirius. ‘Remus Lupin,’ he said, ‘and this is Peter Pettigrew.’   
For some reason, Peter shot Remus a sharp look when he gave his name but took the hand that James offered and shook it. Sirius just nodded to each of them.  
Before any of them could say another word, there came a scream from the back of the group. Remus whipped around to see a small crowd of pearly-white, slightly transparent people drift through the wall. Lyall had told him that the castle had ghosts but it was one thing to hear about them and quite another to see the truth of them before him.  
‘…no sense of decency at all,’ a tall ghost wearing a ruff and tights was saying, ‘a creature like that has no business in a school.’  
‘I quite agree,’ the ghost of a rather morose looking woman with long dark hair and a thick cloak answered, ‘we should go to Dumbledore and demand the expulsion of that disgusting little creature.’  
‘Oh, come now,’ a fat little monk’s ghost said, ‘doesn’t everyone deserve a chance? He can’t help his nature, after all.’  
The arguing ghosts kept on, ignoring the first-years completely, straight through the wall on the other side of the chamber. Remus wondered what, or who, they had been talking about.  
‘We’re ready for you.’ Remus span back around to see that Professor McGonagall had returned. ‘Form a line, please,’ she told the first-years, ‘and follow me.’  
Feeling more than a little nervous now, Remus got into line behind James, Peter standing behind him. Just ahead in the line, he could see Severus and Lily. They walked out of the chamber, back across the Entrance Hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.  
If Remus had thought the Entrance Hall impressive, it was nothing to the sight that greeted him now. The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles floating in mid-air above four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. Before the students were golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table, also laden with golden plates, where all the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here so that they came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school, the teachers table behind them. The faces turned to look at them were rather eerie in the candle light, which was not helped when some of the ghosts they had just seen drifted into the hall and took seats at the tables, shining with a soft, silvery light of their own.   
Just as he had in the Entrance Hall, Remus looked up to the ceiling and once again felt his jaw drop in surprise. For a moment, he thought there was no ceiling then realised it was an enchantment to make it look like the sky outside. Dark clouds were swirling across an inky black sky dotted with stars.  
The sound of wood against stone made Remus look back down in time to see Professor McGonagall placing a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she placed a very grubby, very patched and frayed looking pointed hat. Remus felt his heart beating faster. This was it, the Sorting Hat.  
Everyone in the Hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it too. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the hat twitched. A rip, near the brim, opened up like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

Though it may seem long ago to you,  
Who join us in this hall,  
A thousand years far longer  
Than any might recall,  
To me, it seems like yesterday  
When this great school was raised  
And its founders decided differently  
On which virtues would be praised.  
For many years, those wizards great  
Passed on what they knew  
But who would sort once they were gone?  
What were they to do?  
Twas decided to give me brains  
So that I might have my say  
And so it is that I will tell you  
Where you go today.  
You’ll maybe go to Gryffindor   
Where bravery is received well  
Or find yourself in Hufflepuff  
Where those of loyalty dwell.  
Ravenclaw, home of the wise,  
Welcomes those of eager learning  
While Slytherin brings in those   
Who pursue their goals with yearning.  
But though all these years I’ve done this job,  
I now feel in my heart  
That maybe there is danger  
In drawing you all apart  
So though it is my duty   
To render you divided,  
Remember we are Hogwarts  
And stronger when united.

The Hall clapped but Remus heard something else beneath the applause. There was a murmuring coming from the students at the four tables. People were turning to their friends with looks of confusion and worry. It seemed this song had been out of the ordinary.  
‘Wow,’ Peter breathed, ‘so we really do just need to put on the hat.’   
Remus looked askance at him. Had he not believed what they’d told him? He supposed it didn’t matter. He looked back at the Sorting Hat. He’d been somewhat hoping that the Sorting would be a bit more private. The idea of doing it in front of the whole school made him feel a little queasy.   
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.  
‘When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,’ she said, ‘Allen, William!’  
A nervous looking boy with sandy-blonde hair almost tripped over his own feet as he made his way out of line, sat on the stool and put on the hat. There was a moment’s pause.  
‘SLYTHERIN!’ shouted the hat.  
The table on the left cheered and clapped and William went to join them. Remus saw a terrifying looking ghost covered in what could only be dark blood stains clapping politely.  
‘Adams, Sofia!’  
‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ the hat shouted this time, and Sofia jumped off the stool to join the table on the other side of the hall.  
‘Black, Sirius!’   
The long-haired boy somehow made walking to the stool look cool. He sat down leisurely and pulled on the hat.  
‘GRYFFINDOR!’ Maybe he had imagined it, but Remus could have sworn he saw a smile of relief on Sirius’s face as he pulled off the hat and went to join the table on the far left. He thought he heard some angry voices from the Slytherin table.  
‘Bletchley, Alice’ then went to Ravenclaw, closely followed by ‘Boot, Adrian’. Remus saw a pair of young girls move up to make space for them, smiling in welcome.  
‘Blishwick, Llewellyn’ then became a Slytherin and went to sit beside Allen. Remus was now definitely starting to feel nervous. He felt as if he were about to be called up to the front of a classroom to read a page of a textbook. He’d never enjoyed being the centre of attention.  
‘Catchlove, Greta!’  
‘HUFFLEPUFF!’  
No, it was worse than being called out to read, Remus decided, at least with that you had the words in front of you.   
‘Donahue, Mara’ sat on the stool for quite a while before the hat finally announced the she was a Slytherin.  
‘Evans, Lily!’  
Looking nervous but eager, Lily made her way to the stool and pulled the hat onto her head.  
‘GRYFFINDOR!’ the hat shouted, without a moment’s hesitation. From a little way down the line, Remus heard a groaning. He looked over to see Severus looking crestfallen. Lily gave him a rather sad look as she passed by him to join the Gryffindor table. Sirius moved up to make room for her but Lily, after looking at him, went to sit on the other side of the table.   
It could not be long now, Remus thought, as ‘Fawley, Amanda’ joined the Ravenclaws.  
‘Harris’…’Hill’…then ‘Knight, Richard’…and then, at last –  
‘Lupin, Remus!’  
As Remus stepped forward, he was aware that sound seemed to have gone from the world. He swallowed. He saw Dumbledore sat in the middle of the table, watching him approach the hat. The eyes behind his half-moon spectacles were as unreadable as they had been the day he had come to their house. He hoped they were encouraging.   
He sat on the stool and pulled the hat on. It slipped down over his eyes. He waited.  
‘Hmm,’ said a small voice in his ear, ‘that’s interesting. Don’t think I’ve seen one of your kind for a long time. They tended to have an eagerness to prove themselves, as I recall. I see that here, but not in the same way. A rather fine mind too but…yes I think it shall be GRYFFINDOR!’  
Remus took off the hat feeling satisfied. He had, in truth, not been overly concerned with which house he’d go to but his father had been in Gryffindor and it had sounded like a good house to be part of.  
He walked to the table and was cheered and applauded just like the rest. He sat down next to Sirius, opposite Diana Harris and Lily Evans, the latter giving him a small smile before turning her attention back to the front of the hall. Remus looked up that way too.  
Now that he was no longer so focussed on the hat, he could see the whole of the staff table properly.  
Hagrid was sat at the end closest to the Gryffindor table. Catching his eye, Hagrid gave him a quick thumbs up that Remus returned. The big man was sat beside possibly the wildest looking man Remus had ever seen. Built like a young bull with hair that looked as if it hadn’t even been near a brush in decades, he was taking deep, and frequent, drinks from his tankard and laughing as he talked to Hagrid.   
There was still a good number of students to be sorted. ‘MacDonald, Mary’ joined them at the Gryffindor table while ‘McKinnon, Marlene’ was being sorted into Ravenclaw. ‘Meadowes, Dorcas’ was declared a Hufflepuff and then it was Peter’s turn.  
He looked more nervous than any who had gone before him, Remus saw his knees shaking beneath his robes as his sat on the stool. The hat dropped down almost over his nose. There was a long pause. A long, long pause. So long that Remus began to wonder what happened if the hat could not make a decision. Then the hat shouted ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ and Peter jumped off the stool and almost ran to sit beside Remus.  
James looked much more dignified when he sat down. He too was made a Gryffindor and he pulled off the hat, looking as if the decision had been only natural. He winked at Lily as he sat down. Lily looked as though she’d smelled something unpleasant.  
After ‘Rosier, Evan’ was made a Slytherin came ‘Snape, Severus’. Lily’s friend looked even more sour than he had on the train as he pulled the hat onto his head. There was a long pause as he sat there, not as long as Peter’s had been but still long enough that people began to mutter. Two of those people were James and Sirius.  
‘SLYTHERIN!’ the hat shouted.   
Snape pulled the hat off and went to join the Slytherin table. Remus saw him sit beside an older boy with long, pale-blonde hair who clapped him warmly on the back.   
Lily watched him with a rather regretful expression, though that turned to anger when James and Sirius started hissing above the applause from the Slytherin table.  
‘Stebbins, Roger’ went to Hufflepuff, ‘Turner, Isaac’ to Ravenclaw and the Sorting ended with ‘Thurkell, Jane’, who was made a Slytherin.   
‘I’m starving,’ said James, looking down at his golden plate. Remus felt his own stomach growl. He was now starting to wish he’d eaten more on the train.   
Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was smiling down at them all, his arms open in welcome.  
‘Welcome,’ he said, ‘welcome all to a new year at Hogwarts! I know you are all eager to begin the banquet so with absolutely no ado, I shall say only this. Tuck in!’  
He sat back down and the hall erupted in claps and cheers of appreciation. These ended quickly when the golden platters and dishes on every table became suddenly laden with every kind of food Remus could have imagined.   
Eager to eat, he quickly piled his plate with a cut of rare steak, roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding and a healthy helping of peas and carrots. He poured gravy over the whole lot and began to eat enthusiastically.   
‘Did you skip breakfast?’ James asked, an amused smile on his face.  
‘Or every meal this week? Sirius put in.   
Remus heaved down a mouthful of beef and Yorkshire pudding. ‘I guess I was hungrier than I thought,’ he said, bashfully. The truth was this was another thing that happened in the run up to the full moon. The healers at St. Mungo’s had told him his body would burn a lot of energy during the transformation and so would try to store as much as it could in the days before. The effect of this would be a ravenous hunger. Remus supposed his nerves at going to Hogwarts had helped him forget the hunger during the day but now it was back with a vengeance.  
‘Enjoy it while you can,’ a new voice cut in. Remus looked up to see the ghost with the ruff he had seen earlier drifting down to sit in between James and Peter who each shuffled quickly out of the way. The ghost was looking at the food rather mournfully. ‘Sir Nicolas de Mimsy-Porpington,’ the ghost said, by way of introduction, ‘the ghost of Gryffindor tower.’   
On impulse, Remus reached out to shake his hand, realised immediately how foolish that was and grabbed a bread roll instead. ‘Nice to meet you.’  
If Sir Nicolas noticed the faux pas, he didn’t comment but instead turned his attention to the rest of the first years sat around him. Remus blinked. He could have sworn he saw the ghost’s head wobble slightly.  
‘Well I hope you new Gryffindors will do your part to make sure we win the House Cup again this year,’ he said, proudly, ‘last year was the first time in five years, and no bad thing. The Grey Lady was becoming unbearably smug.’  
‘Who’s the Grey Lady?’ asked Lily, curiously.  
By way of answer, Sir Nicolas gestured over his shoulder at the ghost of the woman in the long cloak Remus had seen him talking to. She was sat at the Ravenclaw table, a rather haughty expression on her face, talking to Alice Bletchley and Marlene McKinnon.   
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates leaving them as clean as they had been when they’d started. A moment later, the puddings appeared. Ice creams, tarts, cakes and pies, there was as much variety as the main course had had. As Remus helped himself to a healthy slice of lemon tart, the talk turned to families.   
‘My mum’s a witch,’ Diana Harris was saying, ‘she met my dad at a Halloween party in America. He moved here to be with her but it took him a while to believe she was a real witch. He thought she was just really good at muggle magic tricks.’  
The others laughed.  
‘What about you, Pettigrew?’ Sirius asked. Peter repeated what he had told Remus on the train, his mother raising him after his father left. On Remus’s other side, Lily was talking excitedly with Mary MacDonald about lessons, which they were most looking forward to most and what each would entail.   
A prickling at the back of his neck made Remus look over at the Slytherin table. Snape seemed to be in conversation with his fellow new Slytherins but every now and again, his eyes would flick over to the Gryffindor table. Remus did not have to be a genius to know what he was looking at, or more specifically, who. There was a jealous look in Snape’s eye as he watched Lily talking with Mary.  
As he munched on his tart, it really was excellent, Remus looked up to the High Table again. Hagrid and the wild man beside him seemed to be competing to see who could down the most tankards. Professor McGonagall was watching the two of them, disapproval clear on her face, as she spoke to a very tall man with a thatch of reddish hair. Dumbledore seemed deep in conversation with a very large man with a walrus moustache and a head of thinning hair. On his other side was a rather small, unassuming looking man whose hair seemed to be changing colour as he ate his trifle.  
It happened very suddenly. A sharp smell filled Remus’s nose, one he had never smelled before. It was rank, like something hairy that had been left in the rain. Before he could stop himself, Remus shook his head to clear his nose of the smell.  
‘You alright?’ asked James.  
The smell was still there but it had faded somewhat. Remus nodded.  
‘Just a sneeze,’ he said.  
He looked back up to the teacher with the changing hair but the smell did not come back.  
At last, the puddings too disappeared and Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet again. The Hall fell silent.  
‘Now that you have all had your fill, I have just a few more words before bed. Firstly, I am delighted to welcome a new member of the faculty, Professor Able Winyard, who will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.’ The unassuming man with the changing hair got to his feet and inclined his head to the polite applause that came from the house tables. ‘Next, First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all students. I have also been asked by Mr. Pringle, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic is to be used in the corridors and that the list of items forbidden in school is available on request.’ The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth seemed to twitch at that before he went on.   
‘Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams please give your name to your head of house or to Madam Hooch.  
‘And finally, I need to inform you all that two Whomping Willows have been planted in the school grounds this year. These trees are incredibly rare and have been planted here in an effort to preserve them. However, they are also extremely dangerous. I would advise each of you not to approach them. To do so will certainly end with serious injury.’  
Remus heard muttering from further down the table, and the Gryffindors were not alone. All the houses seemed to be muttering at this last announcement.  
‘If they’re so dangerous then why are they planted here?’ One thin faced girl demanded.  
‘Maybe there’s something in the soil around Hogwarts?’ a dark-haired boy speculated out loud, ‘maybe they can only grow in places like this?’  
Dumbledore raised a hand and the Hall fell silent again.  
‘I’m sure you are all eager to get a good night’s sleep before lessons tomorrow,’ he said, smiling, ‘so off to bed with you.’  
Two of the older Gryffindors, a boy and a girl, immediately stood up. The boy was tall and wiry with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, the girl was only slightly shorter with shoulder length red hair and a rather bold face. Each of them wore a silver badge on their robes.  
‘First years follow us, please,’ the girl called out. She had a loud, confident voice that carried over the noise of the whole school’s talking.  
The two older students led the Gryffindor first years through the chattering crowds and out of the Great Hall. When they were in the relative quiet of the entrance hall, they introduced themselves as Patricia Rakepick and Michael Jones, Gryffindor prefects.  
‘If you need any help with anything,’ Patricia said, ‘you can come and talk to us.’   
Michael said nothing, merely nodding along with what Patricia said.  
They climbed the marble staircase together, then were led through passages that lay behind sliding panels and tapestries. Once or twice, they were led through doors that appeared to be solid stone walls. Remus started to feel a new worry. How was he ever going to be able to find his way around this place?  
Finally, they arrived in a corridor that ended at a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.  
‘Password?’ she asked as they drew close.  
‘Nemean,’ said Patricia, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through – Peter needed a little help – and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a very warm room full of very comfy looking armchairs.  
Patricia and Michael directed the boys and girls through the doors to their respective dormitories. They climbed a spiral staircase and arrived at a round room that they assumed was theirs. Four four-poster beds hung with deep-red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Remus’s stomach was full which was making him feel as though he could fall asleep right then and there. The four of them pulled on their pyjamas and fell onto their beds.  
‘Never thought I’d be here,’ Remus heard Sirius say under his breath. He thought about asking what the other boy meant but, before he could, he fell asleep.   
He must have eaten too much, because he had a very strange dream. His was running through a forest. He was on all fours, crashing through the undergrowth. He was suddenly aware he was not alone. There was something else with him, no, three other things, other creatures. They were chasing him. No, they were with him. They were together, they were his pack. Remus woke up, confused, looking around. It took him a moment to remember where he was.   
When he did, he lay back down, smiling, and closed his eyes. He was at Hogwarts.


	8. The Master of Disguise

‘This way!’  
‘No, it’s this way!’  
‘I’m sure it was right at that tapestry of that ugly bald bloke.’  
Such was often heard in those first few days at Hogwarts school coming from groups of often frantic looking first years. Remus was often in the same boat. In all of his daydreams about coming to the school, never had he imagined that finding the lessons would be so complicated.   
With over a hundred and forty-two staircases, half of which had a habit of changing where they led at various points during the day, successfully reaching the right floor could be a challenge. And then there came the task of navigating your way through the corridors, some of which could be as tricky as the stairs. One particular corridor on the third floor would just lead you back to where you started unless you were holding one of your shoes. And even after that, there sometimes came the issue that some of the doors would refuse to be opened unless you asked politely, knew the right password, or tickled them in exactly the right spot. All in all, it was rather difficult to build any kind of mental map of the castle when everything kept moving around.   
The people in the portraits would, of course, flit from one to another but none of them seemed to have any interest in helping any of the students. No more so did the ghosts who floated through the school corridors, with the exception of Sir Nicholas who was always happy to stop and point the new Gryffindors in the right direction.  
Though any help the ghost of Gryffindor offered could be easily undermined by Peeves. Remus had expected the poltergeist’s tricks, having been warned by his father, but it had still come as quite a shock when, on the first day, the contents of a waste paper basket had rained down on him in the middle of a corridor. Looking up he had seen the wicked looking little man rolling around laughing in mid-air, the bells on his hat jangling as he moved. His father had taught him a trick for dealing with poltergeists and he had just pulled out his wand when he’d been stopped by a wheezy shout of ‘No magic in the corridors!’   
Argus Filch, the caretaker, was the only thing worse to run into than Peeves.   
‘You get lost,’ he’d barked at Peeves, who blew a loud raspberry and zoomed away, cackling. The caretaker had then rounded on Remus.  
‘You deaf, boy?’ he’d snapped.  
‘No,’ Remus had answered, confused.  
‘Then you heard the headmaster say that there’s no magic allowed in the corridors?’  
‘Yes,’ Remus said, abashed, trying to quickly hide his wand from sight. Filch was staring at him through narrowed eyes.  
‘You’re the Lupin boy,’ he murmured. It was not a question but Remus nodded. Filch sniffed. ‘Dumbledore says I can’t discipline you. You’re too delicate, he says.’ Filch’s mocking smile made Remus’s teeth clench. ‘Well, that being the case, I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But mark my words, boy, I catch you doing this again and it won’t matter how sensitive you are.’ As if to enforce the point, Filch slapped the back of his hand into an open palm before stumping off, muttering darkly.  
Remus had breathed a sigh of relief. He supposed he should be grateful that, with the full moon only three days away, he had indeed looked rather pale and peaky.   
And even after navigating the stairs, the doors, a hostile caretaker and a psychotic poltergeist, there were the lessons themselves. Remus was glad he had taken the time to read all his books before he started. A good number of the first years seemed surprised to find out there was a lot more to magic than just learning some funny words and waving your wand in the air.  
Every Wednesday at midnight, they were taken up to the astronomy tower by Professor Mayhew to study the night’s sky through their telescopes and learn the names of the constellations and charter the movements of the planets. Three times a week, they went out to the greenhouses where the rather dumpy Professor Sprout talked about the different magical plants that were cultivated there.  
The biggest let down for Remus was History of Magic. Bathilda Bagshot’s book had been one of those he had read the most over the summer. He had found the history of the goblin-wizard conflicts fascinating, and of course the various campaigns for equal rights for part-human creatures had held a very personal interest for him. But Professor Binns, the school’s only ghost teacher, and his dreary and droning voice, had taken a rather interesting subject and turned it into possibly the most boring thing ever to exist.  
Professor Keythorpe, the Charms teacher, made up for his colleague by being one of the most excitable and animated men Remus had ever encountered. Tall and bony, he might have looked severe if not for the beaming smile he nearly always wore. During their first lesson, he talked enthusiastically about the sort of spells they’d be covering, all the while quizzing the students on what they knew already.   
Professor McGonagall, though considerably more serious, seemed no less enthusiastic about her subject.   
‘Transfiguration, though complex, is, I believe, the school of magic with the most possibilities,’ she had lectured them in their first class, ‘those who master the art will find that they are limited only by their own imagination.’  
Then she turned the lamp on her desk into a snowy owl that flew around the room before perching on the windowsill and becoming a burning candle in a brass holder. The whole class applauded and were eager to get started but Remus knew it would be a long time before they came close to trying anything like that. They were instead put to work on turning matches into needles. Remus had read up on this thoroughly and thought he’d be able to do it, but by the end of the lesson he’d only been able to make his matchstick turn silver. Lily, who’d been working opposite him, had made hers look a little more needle-like but it still produced a small flame when Professor McGonagall struck it. James and Sirius, who’d been laughing and joking all lesson, had been most successful. Remus thought, had they taken the lesson more seriously, they might have earned points instead of a detention each and a disapproving scowl from Professor McGonagall. The look that Lily gave them was only slightly less irate.  
A class Remus had been particularly looking forward to had been potions. Professor Slughorn had been teaching at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore and had a reputation as a master potion maker. And though, like Professors McGonagall and Keythorpe, he clearly knew his subject well, he spent much of that first lesson asking Sirius about the various members of his family that Slughorn apparently knew rather well. Another victim of this attention was Alice Bletchley whose father, it seemed, was a rather well known Auror. It got to the point where Lily, looking a little annoyed, politely and pointedly asked Slughorn how many porcupine quills should be added to the potion they’d been instructed to prepare. Slughorn, to his credit, looked rather abashed but then laughed and moved to Lily’s cauldron to help.  
Remus had been a little surprised by Lily. She had shown herself to be very intelligent on the Hogwarts Express but Remus had assumed that, with her being muggle-born, she and the other first years who came from muggle households would find themselves at a disadvantage to those who had been around magic all their lives. Naturally, Remus had been ready to offer any help but, as it turned out, she did not need help from anybody. She was able to figure out most spells they learned just as quickly, if not quicker than he did. In fact, the only students who regularly outdid her were Sirius and James. As it turned out, the student Remus had to help more often than not was Peter.  
He had come out of his shell a lot in that first week. Having got over whatever was making him so suspicious on the Hogwarts Express, he seemed to have decided Remus was someone he could be friends with and sat beside him in every lesson, usually whispering requests for help while the teacher’s back was turned.  
Finally, the end of the week came. Friday morning Remus awoke feeling horrible. The full moon was only two days away. He’d feel worse the next day and Sunday he’d likely be unable to move much.   
‘You ok, Lupin?’ Peter asked, looking concerned as they put on their robes.  
‘Yeah,’ Remus lied, massaging his head, ‘just a bit of a headache.’   
‘Breakfast will help,’ Peter said brightly, ‘my mother always said that there’s little a full stomach can’t cure.’   
Remus smiled but said nothing, only following Peter down to the common room where they met Lily, Mary and Diana. Those three had become quite close in such a short time. They were often seen together, though Lily was more often seen with Snape than the other two girls.  
‘Morning,’ Lily said brightly.  
‘You look awful,’ Diana said, bluntly, to Remus, ‘are you ill?’  
‘I don’t think so,’ Remus said, putting on a brave face despite the throbbing behind his eyes.  
‘You should go to the hospital wing,’ Mary lisped, attempting to feel his head. Remus backed away, still smiling.  
‘I’ll be fine,’ he said.   
Mary shrugged and headed for the portrait hole. The rest followed. They had decided to meet up and go down to breakfast together the previous night. It had been Lily’s idea (‘the more of us there are, the less chance there is that we’ll get lost’) and they’d all agreed.  
There was a familiar sullen and sour faced boy waiting for them by the doors to the Great Hall.   
‘Morning, Sev,’ Lily said warmly. Snape’s eyes brightened when they saw Lily and did not acknowledge the existence of any of the rest of them.  
‘Morning,’ he said, ‘you want to go for a walk before breakfast?’  
‘Ok,’ Lily said, brightly. She turned to Mary and Diana, ‘I’ll meet up with you later,’ she said before walking off towards the front door with Snape.  
Remus turned in time to see Diana and Mary exchange a loaded look but, before he could ask what they were thinking, they both turned and walked into the Great Hall.  
‘Evans going off with her boyfriend?’   
Remus jumped and turned to see James and Sirius walking towards them.  
‘Yes,’ Peter squeaked. He always got jumpy around the other two Gryffindor boys, ‘they’ve gone for a walk.’  
‘Excellent,’ Sirius was grinning evilly. He was tossing what looked like a small brown burlap bag up and down in his hand. Remus noticed it making a squidging sound every time it landed back in his palm.  
‘What’s that?’ Remus asked, hesitantly.  
‘Oh, don’t worry about it,’ James was grinning, ‘we’ve just prepared a little something for dear little Snivellus. See you later.’   
And with that, he and Sirius took off at a jog towards the main door, after Snape and Lily.  
‘Should we tell someone?’ Peter asked, though he did not seem overly earnest. Remus looked after the two boys. He supposed they should, but on the other hand…  
‘Let’s just not get involved,’ he said. Peter nodded, looking relieved, and followed him into the Great Hall. Remus doubted James and Sirius had planned anything that bad, really. Likely just a nasty prank. ‘What have we got today?’ he asked Peter as he sat down. He did not feel like eating but began buttering some toast.  
‘Double Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ Peter said, eagerly, ‘with the Slytherins. I can’t wait.’  
Remus knew how he felt. Defence Against the Dark Arts was the class he’d been looking forward to most. His father had taught him all about the kind of dark creatures he’d had to deal with in his career. He thought he knew a lot of things that most of the other students might not. Though he had been starting to have second thoughts since they had arrived, mainly due to the teacher. He had seen Professor Winyard a couple of times since the start of term feast and, though he had not experienced the same sensory flash he had had that first night, the memory of it was still fresh in his mind, and it troubled him.  
All thought of Professor Winyard went immediately from his head when a large eagle owl landed in front of him carrying a small roll of parchment in its beak.   
Remus hadn’t received any letters so far, his parents had promised to send him something on the Monday, but the roll was addressed to him. Remus unrolled it to see a short message in a long, spidery hand.  
Dear Mr. Lupin,  
Please meet Madam Pomfrey in the Entrance Hall at three o’clock. She will be taking you through what to do on Sunday. I hope you are well and enjoying your first few days in school.  
Yours sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore  
‘Who’s it from?’ Peter asked through a mouthful of sausage and beans.  
‘My parents,’ Remus said, casually, stuffing the parchment into his pocket, ‘just asking how I am.’  
Peter smiled and loaded another fork with sausage. He had received a letter from his mother the previous morning.  
Remus bit into his toast but did not really taste it. What had he been expecting? Dumbledore to show him everything himself? The headmaster likely had a hundred more important things to do. But he had rather hoped…  
The bell rang and Peter jumped to his feet, clearly eager to get going. Remus stood up as well, in time to see an absolutely furious looking Snape come into the hall, something foul looking dribbling from his lank hair. From the sound of laughter coming from the Entrance Hall, he was certainly not the only one to notice.  
The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was up on the third floor, just off from a long serpentine corridor. It was a high-ceilinged room with what appeared to be the skeleton of an enormous raptor hanging above their heads. Yet somehow that still managed to be the second most surprising thing in the classroom.   
Standing by the desk was a willowy thin man with wispy white hair and large silvery eyes that Remus had last seen staring at him from the gloom of a shop in Diagon Alley.  
‘Mr. Ollivander?!’ Lily exclaimed.   
The old wand maker turned his gaze upon them and smiled.  
‘Good afternoon,’ he said in the soft voice Remus remembered, ‘Professor Winyard will be with us shortly.’  
‘What are you doing here?’ the dark haired and dark eyed Llewellyn Blishwick asked, perhaps a touch impolitely. Ollivander smiled.  
‘Professor Winyard asked me to come here today to assist with a practical demonstration. If you will all take your seats, I shall go and check where he is.’  
Remus took a seat at a long line of desks as Mr Ollivander moved off to the classroom door. Peter took a seat beside him while Lily, who was shooting hate filled looks at James and Sirius, sat on his other side. Snape, who had managed to get whatever horrible stuff he’d been covered with off, seemed to still be pointedly ignoring everyone except Lily. Remus didn’t have to see James and Sirius to know they were sniggering. He was still not sure whether or not he liked those two. What they had done to Snape was undeniably nasty, but he could not find it in himself to feel that sorry for the boy who kept looking at him like something he’d scraped off his shoe.   
Suddenly his mind went blank. He smelled that smell again, the rank smell of fur in rain. He felt his hackles rise. Then, suddenly, there was something pressing into the base of his skull. Something thin and hot. He knew, somehow, that it was the tip of a wand.   
‘And, just like that, you’re dead.’  
The voice was soft, like Ollivanders had been, but this was soft like silk wrapped around garrotte wire. The whole classroom gasped. Remus looked over his shoulder and gasped himself. The man standing with a wand pressed against him looked like a melting wax figure of Mr Ollivander. As he watched, the figure became shorter, the eyes less pronounced, the nose elongated and the hair became thicker and darker. After only a few seconds, it was no longer Mr Ollivander standing there but Professor Winyard.  
‘First lesson,’ Professor Winyard said to the room at large, while not taking his eyes from Remus, ‘never think you know anything, or anyone. Because let me tell you this, it’s never the attack you see coming that gets you.’  
The classroom was full of stunned silence that was finally broken when James raised a hand to ask, ‘How did you do that, sir?’  
Professor Winyard smiled and moved his wand tip away from Remus’s neck.  
‘I am a metamorphmagus,’ he explained, ‘an ability that allows me to change my form at will. An ability I used to great effect during my time with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.’  
Without waiting for any follow up questions, Professor Winyard turned and walked back up to the front of the class.   
‘You are here to learn the art of defence against the forces that assail the wizarding world every day,’ he began. He had a voice that seemed to fill the room while barely rising above a whisper. It was quite odd to hear a voice like that coming from a man who looked so ordinary. ‘These forces come in forms too numerous to count. Creatures that lurk in the shadows and roam free at night to ensnare the unwary that dwell in our forests, our towns, some within our very homes. And that’s to say nothing of those that walk among us.  
‘Curses, hexes, jinxes. All these and more are the tools of the dark wizard. I can teach you how to counter these threats, see what tries to go unseen and how to fight against them. I would advise you all to listen well because, one day, what I teach you may well save your life.’  
Not one student in the room made a sound following this little speech. Even James and Sirius seemed to have been stunned.  
‘Lupin,’ Winyard said, suddenly making the whole class jump, ‘I know your father from the ministry. A good wizard. Doubtless he’s taught you where boggarts tend to make their homes?’  
‘Um,’ Remus faltered. He had not expected to be quizzed this early in the class, ‘yes sir. They prefer confined spaces, like wardrobes and cabinets, but they’re also found in woods.’  
‘Correct,’ Winyard said. He was smiling, but Remus noticed that the smile did not seem to reach his eyes. ‘But then, your father specialises in spirit type creatures, so it’s hardly surprising you’d know that one. Let’s try a harder one. Lupin, where would you go if I asked you to find me a Grindylow?’  
Feeling rather put upon, Remus thought back over everything he could remember from his reading or from his father’s stories. He was feeling a little put upon. Why didn’t Winyard ask somebody else?  
‘Well they like to live in weed beds,’ Remus said slowly, ‘so I suppose at the bottom of a lake or something?’   
‘Very good,’ Winyard said, still smiling that cold smile. Remus was starting to feel he was being tested in more ways than one. ‘We will be studying them later this year. Some might say you’re a bit young, but I would honestly expect first years to be able to deal with a Grindylow.’  
While Winyard was talking, Remus glanced to either side of him. Peter was scribbling down everything Winyard was saying, his nose barely an inch above the parchment. Lily was looking at the professor with a slightly troubled expression on her face. Remus had expected to see Snape writing things down with the same half bored expression he had seen him wear in every other class they had shared. But, quite to the contrary, Snape was watching Winyard with a rapt attention Remus had never seen in him before.  
‘One more, a little harder this time,’ said Winyard, ‘how does one tell the difference between the werewolf and the true wolf?’  
Remus’s breath caught in his throat. His hackles rose again, even faster than they had before. Winyard was looking at him like a cat seeing a cornered mouse.   
He knows.  
The thought pounded through his head with every beat of his heart. Then he got himself under control. Of course he knew. Dumbledore must have told the rest of the staff what he was, he’d be insane not to. He was meeting Madam Pomfrey later who clearly knew. But none of the other teachers had made any comment of it, so why was Winyard? Maybe it was the full moon being so close, but Remus fancied he felt the wolf inside him bare its teeth and growl.  
‘I don’t know,’ he blurted out quickly.  
One of the Slytherins snorted.   
‘How can you not know?’ he demanded, ‘there’s loads of differences. There’s the tufted tail and the snout…’  
‘I don’t remember asking you, Allen,’ Winyard’s voice did not rise, nor even did he sound angry, but William Allen quickly fell silent. ‘Well I’m sure you will learn in due course, Lupin,’ Winyard had not taken his eyes from Remus, even while he had berated Allen, ‘two points to Gryffindor for what you did know.’  
The rest of the lesson passed fairly unremarkably. Professor Winyard broke them up into groups and gave each of them the name of a dark creature and told them to brainstorm how they would go about dealing with it. Peter and Remus grouped up with James and Sirius and they were asked how they would deal with a Hinkypunk.   
‘You could put it in a big fish bowl or something,’ Peter said, rifling through his copy of The Dark Forces, A Guide to Self-Protection.   
‘You in the habit of carrying around a giant fishbowl wherever you go, Pettigrew?’ Sirius asked, an eyebrow raised.  
‘Are you in the habit of walking around a bog chasing floating lamps?’ Remus said, without thinking. Sirius glowered at him but James burst out laughing and then, before any of them knew it, they were all laughing.   
Though it had been an enjoyable lesson, Remus had not been able to shake the feeling of Professor Winyard’s eyes on the back of his head. He was sure the man was watching him but every time he turned to look, Winyard was talking to one of the other students or else watching a group that seemed deep in discussion. Snape and paired up with Lily, rather predictably, and they had formed a group with Diana Harris and Mary MacDonald. Snape was more animated than Remus had ever seen him. There was something about this class that had brought him to life much more than any of the others.  
At five to three, Remus said goodbye to Peter and went to the Entrance Hall to meet Madam Pomfrey. He had not had chance to meet the matron yet. As he approached, she turned to face him and Remus got the impression of a woman who was kind and nurturing but would also suffer no foolishness.  
‘Hello, Lupin,’ she said, smiling, ‘how has your week been?’  
‘Fine,’ Remus said, returning the smile and feeling it was only partly forced.   
‘Good,’ Madam Pomfrey replied, ‘now, if you’ll follow me.’  
Together, they walked out of the castle and into the grounds. Remus saw several groups of students out enjoying what must be some of the last of the summer sun before autumn rolled in. They skirted the edge of the lake and on to the Forbidden Forest. Remus saw a large cabin on the forest’s edge, the chimney smoking. He supposed that must be where Hagrid lived.  
They carried on along the edge of the forest until they were out of sight of any of the students and almost out of sight of the castle. There they came to a particularly gnarled and knobbly tree that most have been a good fifteen feet high.  
‘Alright,’ Madam Pomfrey said coming to a halt, ‘this is the Whomping Willow.’  
Remus started. When he had last seen this tree, it had been little more than a sapling. It was amazing to think it had grown this tall this quickly.  
‘Professor Sprout has been giving it a carefully worked out diet to accelerate its growth,’ Madam Pomfrey explained, correctly guessing what Remus was thinking, ‘it will attack anything that comes close.’ Remus heard a note of stern disapproval at that. He supposed, being a healer, she could not approve of anything that might put people in danger. ‘I will accompany you on Sunday,’ she went on, ‘when we get here, I will freeze the tree and you will go through that passageway there,’ she pointed to a small opening at the base of the tree, ‘that will lead you to the location that Professor Dumbledore has built for your use. I will come and get you the following morning, understand?’  
Remus nodded. It had all been very well thought out, though he supposed he could not have expected less from Professor Dumbledore.  
‘Alright,’ said Madam Pomfrey, ‘I’ll take you back to the school.’  
Remus began to follow her but then stopped. Something had caught his memory.  
‘Dumbledore said that there were two Whomping Willows getting planted in the grounds,’ he said.  
Madam Pomfrey turned to him. Her eyes were still kind but her nostrils were flaring. Remus did not know if this was a warning sign or merely proof that she did not like the trees.  
‘That’s correct,’ she said, ‘the other has been planted deep in the forest.’  
‘What’s that one for?’ Remus asked.  
‘Nothing to do with you,’ Madam Pomfrey replied, not unkindly but firmly. ‘Now let’s get back to the castle. I’m sure you’re eager to enjoy your afternoon off.’  
Remus said nothing else as they walked back to the school. He was too busy thinking. Dumbledore had lied to the school about why the willows had been planted in the grounds. One was to cover his secret and make sure the other students would be safe from him. So, what could the other Whomping Willow be covering? What could be as dangerous as a werewolf?


	9. The Other Willow

Remus had never believed he would ever have a real friend. That had changed when he arrived at Hogwarts. Peter might be a little nervous and jumpy, and Remus spent as much time helping him correct his mistakes in lessons as he did focussing on his own work, but he enjoyed the time he spent with the other boy. Either talking as they walked between lessons or else in the evenings when they each pulled up an armchair in the Gryffindor common room and got down to their homework. Remus would often finish his quickly and then help Peter correct his.  
They were sometimes joined by Lily, usually when one of the teachers had set a particularly difficult bit of homework and she needed Remus’s help almost as much as Peter. Remus was flattered, though a little confused by this.  
‘Black and Potter are better at this stuff than me,’ Remus admitted one such night, while the three of them had their heads together as they worked their way through a particularly nasty essay on substance switching spells for Professor McGonagall, ‘why don’t you ask them for help?’  
Lily made the face she always made when someone brought up those two, like she was smelling raw sewage.  
‘I wouldn’t ask those two for help if my hair was on fire,’ she said, frostily, as she scratched out an offending sentence, ‘besides,’ she went on, ‘you’re just as clever as them and you’re a lot nicer.’  
Remus felt a small flush creep across his face and he buried it in his copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration.  
It was certainly very nice of Lily to say, but Remus couldn’t agree with her that he was as smart as James and Sirius. True, he did as well as them in lessons, but that was more because the two of them were often acting up in class too much to answer questions. This, Remus wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that James and Sirius did as well as he did in lessons without even trying.  
Remus knew he was intelligent. But he knew the answers in lessons because he studied hard and read more than anyone else in the year. James and Sirius matched him effortlessly. Whatever they did seemed to come as easy as breathing and nothing ever seemed to faze them.  
Nothing changed when the notice went up in the common room the Flying Lessons would begin on Thursday. The only thing that prompted a groan was that they would be learning with the Slytherins.  
‘Oh good,’ said Lily, the only one to think so, ‘Sev was talking about this just yesterday. I’ll go see if he’s seen.’  
She left, pretending not to see the mocking, kissy faces James and Sirius were aiming at her. The two boys then came over to join them.  
‘Flying, eh?’ James said, his eyes full of cockiness behind his glasses, ‘that’ll be fun.’  
Sirius shrugged. ‘If you say so,’ he said, ‘I’ve never been much fussed on it. My brother always liked it. To be fair, he’s pretty good.’  
James looked at Sirius like he’d gone mad.  
‘Not fussed on flying?’ he exclaimed, ‘but flying’s the best thing ever!’ He rounded on Peter and Remus. ‘You two fly, right?’  
‘Yes,’ said Peter, breathily, he always got like that when James or Sirius spoke to him, ‘we live in the country and my mum lets me borrow her Cleansweep.’  
‘You any good?’ Sirius asked, an eyebrow raised, doubtfully.  
‘I’m not bad,’ Peter said, flushing.  
‘Well you had to be good at something, eh Pettigrew?’ James laughed, punching Peter playfully on the arm, ‘we should go flying some time. How about you, Lupin?’  
Trying not to laugh at the awed expression on Peter’s face, Remus said, ‘no, not done much flying.’   
The truth was that between school, moving house and his transformations, there’d been very little time in Remus’s childhood for flying. Lyall had never thought to get him lessons or even a toy broomstick.  
James tutted impatiently.  
‘I’ve been flying since I was three, you’ll love it. That’s if you’re well enough, of course.’  
Remus smiled weakly. He’d been out of class for almost the whole week after his transformation. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t wanted him going back to class until she was sure he was feeling healthy again. They had put about the rumour that Remus had fallen ill and Dumbledore had told him to play along with the story.  
‘So, you’ll be trying out for the Quidditch team, then?’ Sirius asked James, smiling.  
‘Of course,’ said James, enthusiastically, ‘my parents are sending my Nimbus so I’ll have a decent broom to try out on and I’ve already given my name to McGonagall.’  
‘But first years almost never get picked for the team,’ Peter said, his eyes wide.  
‘True,’ James shrugged, ‘but that doesn’t mean they can’t, right?’  
Thursday came all too quickly for Remus’s liking. No matter what James might say, the idea of being high off the ground terrified him. Despite this, he joined the rest of the Gryffindor first years as they trooped out of the castle and into the grounds at three-thirty.  
It was a warm, calm day with the occasional breeze sending ripples across the surface of the lake and stirring the leaves in the trees of the Forbidden Forest.  
The Slytherins were already waiting for them, along with a tall, grey haired-woman with piercing, yellow eyes like a hawk.  
‘That’s Madam Hooch,’ Lily whispered to him.  
Madam Hooch had laid out twenty broomsticks in neat lines. Once all the students were assembled, she instructed them to each stand beside a broom. They hurried to obey, Remus taking a broom between Sirius and Peter. He noticed Lily had taken the broom beside Snape, as far away from James and Sirius as possible. He also saw a few of the other Slytherins cast contemptuous glances at her.  
‘Right hand over your broom,’ Madam Hooch called, standing next to a broom of her own, ‘and say “Up!”’  
James’s broom leapt into his hand at once, though Remus was a little relieved to see that his was one of the few that had. His own broom had given a little twitch but nothing more while Peter’s had risen about halfway but then seemed to have given up and fallen back down. Sirius’s hadn’t moved at all.  
Looking quickly around, he saw that Lily’s had been one of the other brooms to rise on time. Snape’s had risen on the third attempt. Perhaps there had to be an eagerness to fly to get it to work, Remus thought as he stooped down to pick his broom up. Sirius did not seem particularly keen on flying and he knew that he would prefer to keep his feet on the ground.  
Next, Madam Hooch showed them how to mount a broom without sliding off, then inspected each of them, correcting their grips. Remus heard her tell Snape that his grip was completely wrong, which got a snigger from James and Sirius.  
‘Now when I blow my whistle, you’ll kick off from the ground, hard,’ said Madam Hooch, returning to the front of the class, ‘keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two – one.’  
Overall, it had not gone terribly. True, Remus had barely risen to head height but he had managed better than Peter, who’s broom had tried to buck him off, and Sirius who had not even managed his own height. But James had out done them all, rising easily to fifteen feet in the air and then swooping in an easy figure of eight. He’d finished by dive-bombing Snape, forcing the other boy to drop down to the ground hard. It had cost James five points from Gryffindor but most of the Gryffindor’s were laughing and clapping too much to care.  
‘They’ve got to pick you for the team,’ Peter said to James as they made their way back to the castle. The other Gryffindors walking with them seemed to share this opinion.  
James shrugged, trying and failing to appear modest.  
‘Well the try-outs are this weekend, so we’ll see,’ he said. It seemed clear to everyone there that he fully expected to make the team. Lily and Snape, who happened to be passing by their small group, each shot equally disdainful glances at him before heading into the entrance hall.  
Though disdain did not seem to stop Lily from going down to the Quidditch pitch on Saturday with Diana and Mary. Peter and Sirius went too, along with James who was proudly carrying his Nimbus 1700 racing broom over his shoulder. Remus, however, decided to take advantage of the nearly empty common room and stayed behind to catch up on the homework he’d missed when he’d been “ill”.  
He was very glad he had done for about an hour after try-outs would have begun, the sky went almost black and a heavy rain began to fall. A fire erupted into life in the grate and Remus picked up his books and rolls of parchment and moved to a table closer to the fire.  
It was not long after that that the portrait hole swung open and nearly all of Gryffindor house climbed in, many of them muddy and all of them soaking wet. Remus saw James, Sirius and Peter among the crowd, just as sodden as the rest.  
James dropped into an armchair, his broom clattering to the floor, his face looking as thunderous as the sky outside and also a little swollen. Sirius and Peter sat near the fire, their robes almost visibly steaming.  
‘How’d it go?’ Remus asked, cautiously moving his potions essay away from his dripping classmates.  
‘Not great,’ James said, bitterly. Remus was about to ask further, but warning looks from Sirius and Peter told him he’d do better to keep his mouth shut.  
As it turned out, however, he had not needed to ask. At breakfast the following morning, just as they were tucking into plates of bacon and eggs, they heard a snide voice from behind James.  
‘You got hit by a Bludger, Potter? All that big talk and you got hit by a Bludger?’  
Remus, who’d been re-reading his Standard Book of Spells propped up against the jug of orange juice, lifted his eyes and was not surprised to see Snape, looking positively gleeful, as he looked down his rather hooked nose at James.  
‘Evans told you, I’m guessing,’ James replied, coolly. Remus glanced over at Lily. She had not looked up but her face had gone a little pink, confirming to Remus it had indeed been her who’d told Snape.  
‘She told me everything,’ Snape sneered, ‘I wish I’d been there to see it. It must have been so funny, you celebrating after scoring one goal and then getting smacked in the face.’  
James’s face had gone a little red, though from anger or embarrassment Remus couldn’t tell.  
‘And when will you be trying out, Snivellus?’ he asked, ‘I’m sure the Slytherin team is dying for a player who can just about get his broom off the ground.’  
Peter and Sirius both laughed. Now it was Snape’s turn to go red.  
‘I could outfly you any day of the week,’ he spat, ‘tonight if you like.’  
Sirius barked a laugh, James however looked thoughtful.  
‘Alright,’ he said, ‘you’re on. Midnight, in the grounds, down near Hagrid’s hut. We’ll see who the better flyer is.’  
Maybe Remus was imagining it, but Remus thought he saw a flash of triumph in Snape’s eyes. Did he really believe he could outfly James?  
Before he could know for sure, Snape was moving away. Lily glanced at James with a look Remus couldn’t read before getting up and going after him.  
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Remus said, still looking towards the entrance hall where Snape and Lily had vanished from sight. He had a bad feeling about this idea. Sirius did not seem to share Remus’s concern.  
‘Don’t be such a worry-wort, Lupin,’ he scoffed at him as he returned to his bacon. But Remus was not to be deterred.  
‘What if Pringle’s lurking around? If he catches you, he’ll give you the strap for sure. And that’s not to mention the points you might lose Gryffindor.’  
‘Look if you’re too scared to come, you can stay in your bed,’ said James, ‘this is between me and Snivellus.’  
It was with a head full of worry that Remus went to bed that night. The knowledge of what Snape might have planned kept him tossing and turning for hours so that he was still fully awake at midnight when he heard James whisper,  
‘You up?’  
And Sirius answer, ‘Yep.’  
‘Great. You want to come too, Pettigrew?’ A squeak of excitement and the sound of stirring sheets told Remus that Peter was pulling himself out of bed. ‘Alright, let’s go then, but we have to be quiet.’  
Remus heard three pairs of feet tip toeing through the dormitory and then out onto the staircase. A moment of quiet passed. Then, making a snap decision, Remus pulled himself out of bed, pulled on his dressing gown and slippers, grabbed his wand and followed the other three boys down the stairs.  
He caught up to them in the common room. James was holding his Nimbus over his shoulder and had a bundle of some silvery material under his other arm. All three of them looked surprised.  
‘I’m coming with you,’ Remus said with a confidence he didn’t feel.  
Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, ‘You sure? I thought it was too risky.’ He put an emphasis on the last word that made risk sound like the sort of thing lesser people worried about. Remus fixed him with a flat stare.  
‘It is risky,’ Remus said, ‘but I’m not going to let you lose all the points I earned for Gryffindor and four pairs of eyes will be better than three. At least if I’m with you I can make sure you don’t do something stupid and get Pringle onto you.’  
‘Pringle’s not going to catch us,’ James said, sounding completely relaxed.  
‘How can you be so sure of that?’ Remus demanded.  
By way of answer, James handed Sirius his broom and shook out the silvery thing he’d been carrying under his arm. It was a cloak, a very strange looking cloak. It was silvery grey and seemed to be almost liquid in the way it hung from James’s hands.  
‘My dad gave this to me,’ James explained, ‘apparently he used to use it all the time when he was here.’  
‘What is it?’ Remus asked. He had never seen anything like it before, though Sirius and Peter clearly had for they were looking at the cloak like it was some great treasure.  
‘It's an invisibility cloak,’ Peter gasped. James grinned and, with a flourish, swept the cloak around himself. Remus had to stop himself from shouting in shock. James had completely disappeared from view.  
Sirius turned to grin at Remus.  
‘That satisfy you? If we’re invisible, there’s no way Pringle will see us.’  
Remus couldn’t deny the other boy had a point. However...  
‘But will it cover all four of us?’ he asked. James pulled off the cloak and became visible again.  
‘We’ll have to keep close together,’ he said, looking down at the cloak, ‘but I think it should just about manage.’  
And so, after they had all climbed out of the portrait hole, the Fat Lady was fortunately fast asleep, they clustered together and James threw the cloak over them all. Then they set off, down the corridors, down the stairs and into the entrance hall. The stairs were particularly tricky as they were all grouped together but fortunately the hall was deserted and they finally managed to arrive at the front door. James reached out to try the handle and discovered it locked.  
‘What do we do now?’ Sirius asked.  
Remus rolled his eyes then pushed to the front, his wand outstretched, ‘Alohomora!’  
The lock clicked and James and Sirius together were able to push the door open.  
‘Do we really have to go all the way to Hagrid’s hut under this thing?’ Sirius asked, testily, ‘I feel like I’m going to tread on Pettigrew.’  
‘I think we can risk it,’ James said, grinning and he pulled the invisibility cloak off them. Remus felt very exposed without the cloak but it was certainly easier to walk without it covering them. They continued down the lawn in the direction of the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid’s. The lights were all off in the windows, Hagrid was presumably in bed. James seemed in good spirits, his broom held jauntily over his shoulder as they strolled.  
Suddenly, just as they were drawing near the hut, a light went on. The four of them froze.  
‘What the ruddy ‘ell you doin’ ‘ere at this time, Pringle?’ Hagrid’s voice echoed in the dark night.  
‘Students out of bed, Hagrid,’ they heard Pringle’s gruff voice answer, ‘was wondering if you’d seen ‘em.’  
‘I’ve been asleep, ‘aven’t I?’  
‘Let’s go,’ Sirius whispered. They were about to follow this suggestion when they heard Pringle say,  
‘There’s definitely students out round here tonight, I need your help looking for ‘em.’  
The four of them froze. Hagrid grunted.  
‘Fine, give me a minute.’  
The four exchanged panicked looks.  
‘The cloak! The cloak!’ Sirius hissed at James but he had put the cloak into his bag and before he could pull it out, they heard Hagrid’s loud footsteps.  
‘This way,’ Peter hissed and together, the four ran for the treeline of the forest. Once they were hidden behind a rather gnarled looking oak tree, they turned to try and listen.  
‘You check the forest, Hagrid, I’ll walk along the edge.’  
Sirius swore.  
‘I told you,’ Remus gasped, a mixture of fear and anger filling his head, ‘I told you!’  
‘We need to go further in,’ James said before turning and leading the way. Without pausing, Peter, Remus and Sirius followed.  
Remus had no idea how long they were walking but soon it was so dark that he could not see his own hand in front of his face.  
‘Are you all still there?’ he heard Peter ask. The other boy sounded as frightened as he felt. He was beginning to wonder if it might not be better to turn back and face Pringle’s punishment.  
‘Hang on,’ he heard Sirius say before he muttered something and suddenly light flared.  
Sirius was holding a ball of bright blue fire. By its light he could see they were in the middle of a clearing, James and Peter were not too far away from them.  
‘We need to get back to the castle,’ said Remus. James nodded in agreement. Sirius, on the other hand, was looking at something over Remus’s shoulder.  
‘What’s that?’  
Remus turned and felt his stomach plummet.  
They had found themselves by the other Whomping Willow, and unlike the one over the tunnel to the Hogsmeade shack, he had no idea how to stop this one from attacking.  
‘Run!’ he exclaimed, turning and sprinting back the way they had come.  
Sirius, who’d looked amused at Remus’s reaction, suddenly widened his eyes as, with a creaking, one of the Whomping Willow’s branches moved back, then swung forward, straight at them. The blue flame went out as Sirius dived out of the way, just in time. The knobbly, knuckle like branch crashed into the earth where he’d been standing. The other two, crying out in fear, raced to catch up with them.  
When they had safely made it to the edge of the clearing, they stopped to catch their breath. The Willow was no longer thrashing.  
‘Well, that was close,’ James gasped, laughing nervously.  
‘A little too close,’ said Sirius, though he was chuckling too.  
‘You…stupid…’ Remus tried to say, but he was panting too heavily.  
‘Hey, look,’ Peter said. He was looking back at the Willow. The moon had drifted overhead and was now filling the clearing with a pale half-light.  
There was someone approaching the Whomping Willow. They couldn’t see clearly who it was but it certainly was not Hagrid or Pringle.  
‘What does he think he’s doing?’ Sirius demanded in a whisper. The figure appeared to be cautiously approaching the Willow. ‘Is he trying to get himself killed?’ Suddenly there was a shout and a flash of wand sparks but it was impossible to tell who or where they had come from.  
‘We should go,’ Remus said.  
‘But,’ James was clearly curious to find out what was going on. But Sirius appeared to have come around to Remus’s way of thinking.  
‘No, Lupin’s right,’ he said, ‘we should go.’  
James sighed.  
‘Alright,’ he said, ‘let's go.’  
They were walking a good long while before they found the edge of the castle. Remus thought he heard a yell and wondered if whoever it was had fallen foul of the Whomping Willow. They went back up to the castle, James throwing the invisibility cloak around them as they went.  
Soon, but not soon enough, they were back outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.  
‘Snape set you up, you realise that,’ Remus said after they had given the password and crawled through the hole.  
‘Yes, I think we’d worked that much out thanks,’ Sirius said, darkly. But Remus was not going to be put off that easily.  
‘Pringle knew someone was going to be out there. Snape must have tipped him off. And then you go and drag us over to that mad tree and nearly get us killed!’  
Too angry to think of anything more to say, Remus turned on his heel towards the spiral staircase and went back to bed.  
He thought he heard Sirius say, ‘You’d think we dragged him along, wouldn’t you?’ But he didn’t care. His mind was racing now he was away from the other three boys.  
Who had that figure been? Why had they been trying to get near the Whomping Willow in the forest? And what had stopped them?


	10. A First Outing

The mystery of who had tried to get to the other Whomping Willow, and why, kept Remus tossing and turning for many hours after he had crawled into bed. The one in the open, his Whomping Willow, had a passage that led to the Hogsmeade shack. Did the other willow have a passage beneath it as well? If so, where would that one lead?  
He heard the other three come up to bed and he lay as still and quietly as possible. Hearing James and Sirius talking and sniggering together made his teeth clench. What had he been thinking going out with them? He hadn’t been exaggerating, they had nearly been killed and for what? So James could prove he was a better flyer than Snape?  
But he knew why he’d wanted to go. He’d wanted to be included. All three of the other boys had been going and he’d not wanted to be left out.  
He woke up next morning, not knowing when he’d actually fallen asleep. The other three beds were empty, they must have already gone down to breakfast. Checking the clock by his bed and seeing he was running late, he quickly threw on his robes and bolted down to the Great Hall.  
Fortunately, he was not running so late that he’d missed breakfast and was able to wolf down a plate of scrambled eggs on toast before the bell rang for their first lesson, Charms.  
As he stood up, he caught sight of Snape shooting a snide grin in their general direction. Remus turned in time to see James meet the look with one of contempt. He had a feeling this would not be the last of it.  
And he was quite right.  
Over the following weeks, Remus noticed an exchange of pranks and nasty tricks going on between the two of them. In the corridors, in the grounds, even, sometimes, in lessons, right under the teachers’ noses.  
One particularly memorable Transfiguration lesson had ended with Snape telling an irate Professor McGonagall that his hand had slipped which was why he’d accidentally turned James’s stool into jelly, sending him crashing to the hard-stone floor. The counter-stroke to this had come later that day in Herbology. James and Sirius had created some kind of powder made from fire ant eggs and Inflamorious mushrooms, and had poured the whole lot down the back of Snape’s robes while he was re-potting a Wisp-trap, sending him howling to the floor of the greenhouse, writhing and attempting to scratch every inch of his back.  
‘Must have slipped out of my hand, Professor,’ James had said to Professor Sprout while Peter and Sirius tried and failed to hide their laughter as Snape ran out of the classroom for the Hospital Wing. They were not the only ones. Most of the Gryffindors, and even some of the Slytherins, were laughing at Snape, he had clearly done no more to make himself popular in his own house than he had with the rest of the school. The only one who didn’t seem to be laughing was Lily, who glowered at James before turning her eyes on Remus. He had been softly laughing too, but stopped quickly at the look on her face.  
Since he was trying to steer as clear of James and Sirius as he could, Remus hadn’t had many other options for people to talk to, especially now that Peter was spending most of his time with the other two. And though he was grateful that Lily was letting him hang around with her and her friends, that did leave him with the problem that, outside of the common room, Lily was often accompanied by Snape who, Remus was finding more and more, was thoroughly unpleasant company.  
Remus wasn’t sure if it was the disdaining way the sallow-skinned boy kept looking at him, his snide and nasty comments about him or other Gryffindors, but he was sure that he did not like the other boy.  
Perhaps it was because he’d been so busy, what with lessons, homework and trying not to get drawn into the schemes of James, Sirius and Peter, but Remus could hardly believe it when he realised he had been at Hogwarts for two months.  
Time had gone by so quickly that at the end of September, it had come as a shock when he received a letter from Madam Pomfrey reminding him that the full moon was the following week, the fourth of October. He had woken up on the fifth, lying on a smashed up sofa in the Hogsmeade Shack.  
‘Are you ok?’ Lily had asked when he’d returned to lessons the following week. Professor McGonagall was delivering a lengthy lecture on biological and non-biological switching.  
‘Yes,’ Remus had said, calmly, ‘I had to go and visit my mother, she’s ill.’ He and Madam Pomfrey had agreed on that as his cover story. It would look a little suspicious, after all, if he fell sick every month at the full moon. Lily and Mary had looked sympathetic, Diana did not seem to have noticed they were talking. Snape, on the other hand, had narrowed eyes and was looking at Remus as if trying to work something out.  
Feeling uncomfortable, Remus had opened his book and began taking down notes.  
On Halloween morning, Remus woke up feeling completely lousy. The November full moon was only two days away and his head was swimming so badly that not even the aroma of baking pumpkin pies wafting through the corridors could make him feel better.  
Fortunately, it was a Sunday. There was nothing for him to do but curl up by the fire with a good book and enjoy the moments when the room didn’t feel like it was spinning. He had found a copy of Brongniart’s Bestiary in the library. Brongniart had been one of the first wizards to document the habitats of various dark creatures and Remus thought it would be good information to have for a future essay.  
Though his state of wooziness would certainly make enjoying the book tricky. He’d told Madam Pomfrey of these sensations and she’d said she would see what she could do, though Remus thought she’d only said that to make him feel better.  
He was surprised, therefore, when he arrived at breakfast to find a small package waiting for him.  
‘Something from home?’ Peter asked him as he sat down. James and Sirius were absent, no doubt plotting their next attack on Snape.  
Remus only shrugged and pulled off the wrapping to reveal a long-necked bottle. Tied to the neck was what looked like a label.  
“One tablespoon a day at breakfast – Madam Pomfrey”  
Hardly believing it, Remus pulled out the stopper, poured some of the liquid, which was a fiery red, into a tablespoon and gulped down the lot. He had not expected it to taste quite so foul and, to make matters worse, it seemed to scald his throat on the way down. Remus coughed and choked but then realised that his feelings of nausea had completely gone.  
‘What’s that?’ asked Peter, curious.  
‘Oh its from Madam Pomfrey,’ Remus explained, inventing quickly, ‘I’ve not been feeling great lately.’  
‘You think you’ve got what your mum’s got?’ Peter looked concerned.  
‘Yeah,’ Remus said, still gasping a little, ‘yeah, might be.’  
Despite the scouring his throat had received, Remus began to feel better than he had all week. He was able to enjoy his breakfast and was now even more looking forward to getting back to the common room. Reading would be much more pleasant now.  
‘So what are you up to today?’ Peter asked, happily munching on a bacon roll.  
‘Oh, I was just going to do some reading,’ said Remus, spreading jam on his third slice of toast. There had been a section on the unusual habitats of wild boggarts that Remus was particularly looking forward to. Peter, however, made a face.  
‘Come on, Lupin, you’re always reading. Me, Black and Potter are going to go to the Quidditch pitch to do some flying. You should come too.’  
Remus looked at Peter in surprise.  
‘I didn’t know you and Black had brooms.’  
To his credit, Peter looked a little shame-faced. ‘Well we don’t,’ he confessed, ‘Potter figured out that Alohomora charm so we’re going to break into the shed where they keep the school brooms and we’re going to take a couple of them.’  
Remus was not sure which he was most stunned by. The audacity of Potter’s plan or how relaxed Peter was revealing it. He glanced around nervously, half expecting Professor McGonagall to swoop down on them like a hawk on a rabbit. Fortunately, there was no one, not student or teacher, nearby. The closest person was Lily who was sat a good few feet away  
‘Are you insane?’ Remus had to force himself to keep his voice down, ‘What if you’re caught? You’ll get into so much trouble.’  
Peter shrugged.  
‘We’ll be fine,’ he said, though his voice seemed to be shaking with nerves, ‘Potter said Madam Hooch is down in the village today so there won’t be anyone around to spot us.’  
‘And won’t be back until this evening,’ a new voice joined the conversation. Remus turned and wasn’t surprised to see James, holding his Nimbus 1700, drop onto the bench beside him, closely followed by Sirius who sat beside Peter.  
‘You really think he’d want to come too?’ Sirius asked Peter, raising an eyebrow in incredulity.  
‘He might,’ said Peter, defensively. Sirius snorted. James, however, looked thoughtful.  
‘Pettigrew might be right,’ he said to Sirius before turning his eyes on Remus, ‘how about it, Lupin?’  
Remus could hardly believe what he was hearing. After what had happened in the forest, there was no way they could think he’d go.  
‘There’s no way,’ Sirius said, ‘he doesn’t have the guts.’  
Remus was not sure what it was. Maybe it was the mocking note in Sirius’s voice, the feeling of being left out while the other three boys were off having fun together or the full moon being so close, but a ferocious anger awoke in him then and he was filled with the urge to prove Sirius wrong.  
‘Let’s go,’ he said, finishing his goblet of orange juice and standing up. James grinned and clapped him on the back while Peter, looking happy, also jumped to his feet. Sirius wore a look of sardonic disbelief but stood up too and followed them out.  
The grounds were fairly quiet. It had grown chillier in recent days which had driven most of the students inside to the warmth of their common rooms. However, there were some students out to enjoy some fresh air. Remus saw Patricia Rakepick sitting with a group of girlfriends, chatting animatedly. A pile of books nearby indicated to him they had come out with the intention of studying but had not quite gotten around to it yet. A little distance away, Remus saw Frank Longbottom, a third year he’d spoken to a couple of times in the common room, practicing some spell on a pile of rocks accompanied by Asha Niven, another Gryffindor third year, and two Hufflepuffs, a boy and a girl, who’s names, Remus thought, were Edward Bones and Bridget Croft. As Remus watched, the rocks hopped up and began to move in what looked like a conga line.  
They carried on towards the Quidditch field. On the way they passed by a rather large group made up, Remus was surprised to see, of students from all four houses. Not a sight often seen. They all seemed to be between second and fourth year, three Gryffindor boys, two Hufflepuffs, a pair of Ravenclaw girls who were both chatting friendlily with a Slytherin girl.  
Remus heard a sniff and turned to see James looking darkly at the group. At first, he thought he was glowering at the Slytherin but he then realised, with surprise, it was the Gryffindors that had attracted his ire.  
‘They made the Quidditch team,’ Peter explained as they walked past, he too had seen the look on James’s face, ‘that’s the seeker, Theo Congo, and that’s Farrow and Cadogan, the beaters.’  
‘But you went for chaser, didn’t you?’ Sirius asked, ‘what are you getting jealous over them for?’  
James grunted and said something inaudible before adjusting the broomstick he was carrying on his shoulder and carrying on.  
Remus looked back at the group. Longbottom and his friends had come over to join the group. Everyone was smiling, chatting and laughing. Remus smiled wistfully. He hoped he’d find a group of friends like that one day.  
He turned back just in time to come to an abrupt halt. Sirius had stopped moving and was staring across the lake. Remus looked where he was looking and saw a tall, very pretty girl with long, dark hair, glance over her shoulder and then vanish into the trees of the forest.  
‘Who was that?’ Remus asked.  
‘My cousin,’ Sirius answered, still looking across the lake, ‘Andromeda.’  
‘What?’ James exclaimed, ‘you didn’t tell me you had a cousin here.’  
‘Oh I’ve got two,’ Sirius said, turning and carrying on walking, ‘Narcissa’s in the year below Andromeda. They’re both in Slytherin.’  
James made a face.  
‘I can see why you didn’t mention it,’ he said. Sirius shrugged again.  
‘Andromeda’s not so bad,’ he looked back to where his cousin had vanished, ‘wonder what she’s doing over there.’  
‘Secret meeting, maybe?’ James said, sniggering. Sirius looked at him but said nothing.  
They arrived at the Quidditch pitch. After making sure that the office that belonged to Madam Hooch was, in fact, empty, James pulled out his wand and tapped the lock.  
‘Alohomora!’  
The lock clicked and the door swung open.  
‘Ok,’ said James, looking pleased with himself, ‘go get some brooms.’  
Every part of Remus’s brain was screaming at him to turn around, that this was a stupid idea. But, against his better judgement, he followed the other boys in. Sirius went straight for a cupboard at the back of the office and threw it open, revealing about two dozen old brooms that Remus recognised as those used for their flying lessons.  
James had no need of one himself, though that did not stop him looking at the different models with interest. Remus, knowing not the first thing about brooms, grabbed one at random.  
‘Oh wow,’ said James, catching sight of the broom Remus had chosen, ‘is that a Silver Arrow? I think my dad had one of them.’  
Sirius clearly had no more idea about broomsticks than Remus and he too had grabbed one at Random, a Cleansweep Three. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to be a bit more discerning as he was taking his time to examine each broom thoroughly before making his decision.  
‘Come on, Pettigrew,’ said James, rolling his eyes, ‘Madam Hooch will be back tonight, you know.’  
Peter jumped and grabbed the broom he’d been looking at, a Comet 180. James nodded in approval.  
On the way out of the office, Remus saw him looking at a padlocked trunk in the corner of the room that seemed to be rattling.  
‘Next time,’ he heard the other boy say. Remus didn’t ask, he didn’t want to know. In truth, he was not sure why he was still there.  
The four of them walked out of the office and onto the Quidditch pitch. Remus could not help but turn and stare. He’d never seen a Quidditch pitch before apart from photos in the Daily Prophet. But photos did not do the real thing justice. The pitch was enormous.  
‘Right, let’s have some fun,’ said Sirius, mounting his broom. He kicked off and soared up towards one end of the pitch. The broom he had picked was not particularly fast, which was just as well as it was clear Sirius was still not fully comfortable in the air.  
James chuckled, mounted his broom and took off after Sirius, the Nimbus seeming fast as a bullet when compared to the Cleansweep.  
Peter and Remus looked at each other, Peter’s watery eyes looked nervous but excited. Remus just felt nervous. They both mounted and kicked off.  
They had had a few more flying lessons since the first and Remus was at least now able to rise into the air without feeling like he was about to fall off, but he still felt his stomach spin as he watched the ground fall away from him. Peter was laughing. At least he was having a good time.  
They sped together after James and Sirius who were flying in loops around the goal posts, though James’s flying was considerably more graceful than Sirius’s.  
‘Nice of you to join us,’ James shouted before going into a dive, pulling up only when it looked like he was about to crash into the ground. He came back up laughing. Sirius and Peter were laughing too, Peter was even applauding.  
Show off, Remus thought. Though he could not help feeling impressed. James was an amazing flyer.  
‘So what now?’ Sirius asked when James had come back to their level.  
James seemed to think for a moment then glanced over his shoulder towards the castle. Sirius, who seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, let out a bark of laughter.  
‘Let’s go,’ he said, and sped off towards the school. James, also laughing, shot off after him. Peter wasn’t far behind, his Comet keeping pace with Sirius’s Cleansweep.  
This is stupid, Remus thought. Though he too lowered himself over the broom handle and sped after the other three. The feel of the wind through his hair was incredible. He might not admit it, but he was having fun.  
In no time at all, they were back at the castle, racing each other up the side of the walls and around the turrets and towers. Remus knew if they were spotted they would be in so much trouble but at that moment, he didn’t care.  
It was just as they were approaching Gryffindor tower that something strange seemed to happen to James’s broom. At first it seemed like nothing, a bit of wind catching him and knocking him off course a little, but then it happened again. And again. And again, each time getting worse.  
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Peter. They had all noticed it. Even Sirius was looking concerned.  
‘I don’t know,’ said James. He sounded worried for the first time since Remus had met him and it was not hard to see why. They were more than a hundred feet in the air. This was no laughing matter.  
Suddenly the Nimbus began to buck slightly, then more vigorously, like an angry horse. James was just about able to hang on. Sirius and Peter flew closer but neither could get close enough to do anything in case they accidentally knocked James off. They then dropped lower, clearly ready to catch James if he fell.  
Remus didn’t join them. He was looking around. He might not know much about broom makes and flight speeds, but he knew enough to know that brooms didn’t just start bucking for no reason. James’s Nimbus was being tampered with.  
Perhaps it was because the full moon was close and the animal instincts were becoming stronger, but Remus looked down and saw something. Or to be more precise, someone.  
Even at this distance, he recognised the sallow face and greasy hair. Snape had his wand out and was pointing it straight at James.  
‘Look!’ Remus called to the others.  
‘That little squit!’ Sirius exclaimed, looking over and seeing what Remus was looking at. Remus didn’t answer.  
Looking back, Remus had no idea what had made him do it. There was no logic or sense to his action, just mad impulse. He dived, straight at Snape, like an arrow loosed at a target.  
Snape, so focussed on James, did not notice him coming until he was barely twenty feet away. When he did, Remus saw the boy’s eyes widen as he turned his wand on him.  
Remus’s broom swerved violently, sending Remus towards one of the towers. Remus tried to get the broom back under control but it was too late. There was a shock of impact, the sound of shattering glass and Remus suddenly found himself on a carpeted stone floor. A lot of gasps of surprise, shock and outrage came from all around him.  
‘Well, good afternoon, Mister Lupin,’ an all too familiar voice said, ‘I must say, I do enjoy unexpected visitors, though I am rather used to them coming in through the door.’  
Remus felt his heart plummet into his stomach. His broomstick, quite damaged by the crash and quite forgotten, he looked up and straight into the eyes of Albus Dumbledore. He’d crashed into the Headmaster’s study. The gasps he’d heard had come from the many portraits that hung around the room which seemed to depict former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts.  
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. He looked as though he had been midway through composing a letter when Remus had come in through his window. He had not stood up, nor did his face show any kind of shock even at the smashing of his window. If anything, he looked politely curious, as if Remus had come to present an interesting piece of homework he’d done.  
Remus pushed himself upright, wincing as he felt all the cuts he’d gotten coming through the window. He tried to forget the pain, however, as he tried to organise his thoughts.  
‘I’m really really sorry, Professor,’ was the best he could come up with, ‘I didn’t mean to…’  
‘Indeed?’ Dumbledore said, and Remus noticed that, bizarrely, there now seemed to be an amused twinkle in the headmaster’s eye, ‘you didn’t intend to come crashing through my office window? Extraordinary.’  
‘Of course not!’ Remus exclaimed. His mind was still fuzzy from panic, he wished he could get his thoughts in order. ‘It was an accident.’ What was the matter with him? Why couldn’t he think properly? And why was Dumbledore smiling at him? He didn’t want to be in trouble, of course, but surely it would make more sense for Dumbledore to be furious right now. And why had he said it was an accident?  
‘So how then,’ Dumbledore asked, ‘did you come to be here?’ He had steepled his fingers and was regarding Remus over the top of them, making Remus feel as closely examined as he had the first day he’d met Dumbledore.  
Remus hesitated. He could he tell Dumbledore exactly what happened but then he had no proof of what Snape had done. Would Dumbledore believe him?  
Suddenly there was a swooping sound and, with a tinkling of broken glass, Dumbledore and Remus were no longer alone in the study.  
‘It was my fault, Professor Dumbledore.’  
Dumbledore looked over at the new arrival, his eyebrows slightly raised.  
‘Is that so, Mr Potter?’  
James, who’d managed to dismount from his broom as he’d come through the window, nodded emphatically.  
‘I convinced Lupin to come flying with us. I was showing off and dared him to do what I did. I knew he wouldn’t be able to do it but I pushed him on anyway.’  
‘I see,’ said Dumbledore. His eyes were no longer twinkling as they had been but he still did not seem angry. There was a sort of understanding there now. Remus did not understand at all. James hadn’t done anything of the sort. So why was he lying to the headmaster?  
There were two more swoops and grass crunched underfoot as Sirius and Peter also arrived in the study. Neither had managed the grace that James had, but both were looking worried.  
‘It wasn’t Lupin’s fault, sir,’ said Sirius, his breathing unusually heavy.  
‘That’s right,’ said Peter, who was more out of breath than Sirius, ‘it was…’  
‘…just a stupid accident,’ James cut across the other boy, ‘we all egged Lupin on and we shouldn’t have. We’re sorry.’  
Remus saw James shoot a warning look at Peter. Remus knew he’d been about to say it had been Snape but, for some reason, James didn’t want him to.  
Dumbledore didn’t speak for several moments, and the four boys shifted uncomfortably under the headmaster’s scrutiny.  
Finally, Dumbledore lowered his hands to his desk, picked up a piece of parchment and began writing something on it.  
‘Mr Lupin, you should head over to the hospital wing to get those cuts looked at,’ he said, ‘your friends can take you.’  
‘Of course we will,’ James said eagerly. Remus looked at him, surprised. Were they friends? Yes, he supposed they were.  
But Dumbledore had not finished. ‘Once you’ve been seen to, you are to go to Professor McGonagall. She will decide your punishment.’  
Remus, who’s heart had lifted a little, felt it sink again. McGonagall was unlikely to be lenient with them. But James was nodding while Sirius and Peter came to stand beside them.  
‘Alright then,’ said Dumbledore, ‘pick up your brooms and off you go. If you could use the door this time, I would appreciate it.’  
The four of them turned away while Dumbledore pulled out his wand, gave it wave and sent all the broken pieces of glass back together to re-form the window.  
They descended a moving spiral staircase from Dumbledore’s office in silence. They reached the bottom and walked out a doorway that led out into a corridor. As soon as Peter was through, a gargoyle hopped into the entrance, guarding it from view.  
Remus looked at the other three boys.  
‘Thanks,’ he said. It was all he could think to say.  
James winked.  
‘Forget about it,’ he said, ‘let’s get you to the hospital wing.’  
‘And then to McGonagall,’ said Peter, looking fearful.  
‘Yeah,’ said Sirius, shrugging, ‘but we’ll have the feast afterwards. Don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving.’  
Remus laughed and then, together, the four of them headed off down the corridor.


	11. Quidditch

As November went on, the weather turned steadily colder. The sky mirrored in the Great Hall's ceiling became the same iron grey as the mountains that surrounded the castle. The days became wetter. On some mornings, Madam Hooch could be seen from the higher windows using blasts of hot air from her wand to dry out broomsticks that had grown damp in the sheds.  
The Quidditch season had begun, a fact that had James in particularly low spirits recently. Remus had found out, after he had returned from his few days in the Hospital Wing following the November full moon, that their punishment from Professor McGonagall (a week’s worth of detentions for each of them) had not been the only result of their incident with Professor Dumbledore.  
It had apparently been decided that First Years could not be trusted with their own broomsticks and would not be allowed to keep them at Hogwarts until they had passed their first Broomstick Accomplishment Test at the end of the year. New spells had been put on the storage shed, they could now only be opened with the spoken permission of Madam Hooch or one of the teachers, and any first year who owned a broom at Hogwarts had had it confiscated.  
This had earned James and the others some dirty looks and nasty comments in the couple of days afterwards, though it had not taken long for James to point out that he had lost his broom as well and was no happier about it than anyone else.  
Remus had missed that part but, to hear Sirius and Peter tell it, even seventh years had backed down in the face of James’s frustration and the matter had not been mentioned since. At least not in the Gryffindor common room.  
Though James had laughed at the story, Remus could see he was still unhappy. Remus had never owned a broomstick and so could only guess how upsetting it was to have it taken away for the whole rest of the year.  
As the days went on, however, and the first match of the year drew closer, Remus began to realise that it was not just the loss of his broom which had gotten James down. The Gryffindor team was often to be seen these days huddled together in the corner of the common room in the evenings and Remus would catch James casting wistful looks in their direction.  
‘There hasn’t been a first year on the team in nearly a hundred years,’ James confessed to Remus one day when he saw that Remus had noticed what he was doing, ‘I thought I’d be good enough to be on the team.’  
‘You can try out again next year,’ Remus said, consolingly.  
‘Yeah,’ James said, looking back over at the team, ‘it would’ve been cool though.’  
Remus had rarely been out of James and Sirius’s company since he’d come back from the Hospital Wing and he was finding more and more that he’d misjudged the two of them. True they still acted up in lessons, joked and took hardly anything seriously but there was more to them than that. They had come to his aid when he’d come back after the full moon with pages of notes on everything he’d missed. He’d refused to copy off them (‘I won’t learn anything’), but by having them there to talk him through the spells and theories, he’d received full marks on all the catchup homework he’d received. And of course, there was the fact they’d shouldered the blame with him over the crash into Dumbledore’s office.  
‘I saw you take the spell Snivellus aimed at me,’ James had said when Remus had brought this up, grinning broadly, ‘it seemed only fair to pay you back, that’s all it was.’  
Only a week previously, Remus might have believed that but now he knew that James would have come to help him even had he not taken Snape’s spell. That was the kind of person James was, behind all the ego.  
The only downside of spending more time with the other Gryffindor boys was that now Lily did not seem to want to talk to him as much. The day before the big Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter were out in the courtyard enjoying an unusually clear day, despite the harsh wind the occasionally whistled around them. Peter had managed to pull off an impressive bit of magic, conjuring a small ball of black fire that did not warm the air around it so much as suck in the surrounding coldness. Even James and Sirius were impressed.  
Remus had been about to ask where Peter had learned it when he saw Lily come outside, closely followed, as she often was, by Snape. She glanced towards them before walking off in the opposite direction. Remus, not to be put off, followed after them.  
‘Hey, Evans!’ he called.  
Lily stopped and turned. Snape looked at him sourly. Remus ignored him and spoke pointedly to Lily.  
‘You want to come and join us? Peter’s learned this really cool spell.’  
‘Pettigrew?’ Snape scoffed, nastily. Remus carried on ignoring him. Lily glanced over at the group again.  
‘No thank you,’ she said, her tone as cold as the wind.  
‘He’s not that bad, you know,’ Remus said, cutting right to the point, ‘if you gave him and the others a chance…’  
‘If you want to be friends with them, that’s fine,’ said Lily, ‘I have better taste.’  
She turned and stalked off. Snape gave Remus a snide grin before following after her.  
‘I’m not sure that you do,’ Remus said, to no one but himself. They had not told anyone about what Snape had tried to do to James’s broom.  
‘If we get him in trouble with the teachers, he wins,’ James had explained, as if it were obvious, when Remus had asked why they hadn’t told, ‘that little snot-rag will get what’s coming to him, but we’ll handle it ourselves.’  
Remus was still not sure that was the right decision, but given it was James’s broom Snape had tried to hex, which might well have gotten him killed, he supposed it was James’s decision to make.  
Any further thought on Snape or Lily was immediately blown aside at the sight of someone else. Professor Winyard, coming in from the grounds, nursing an arm in a sling. It looked like it was broken. That was odd. He’d been fine at breakfast. Winyard noticed him staring.  
‘Something I can help you with, Lupin?’  
‘No, sir,’ Remus said, taken aback.  
‘What happened to your arm, sir?’ James and the others had come up to join him. James was looking at the arm in a sling, looking as curious as Remus felt. Winyard’s face darkened at the question.  
‘Well that’s hardly any of your business, is it Potter?’ Winyard brushed past them and into the castle, Remus assumed in the direction of the hospital wing.  
‘Where do you suppose he’s been?’ Sirius asked, a ponderous note in his voice.  
‘The Forbidden Forest is that way,’ Peter said, looking towards the gate that Winyard had come in by.  
‘You think he might have been over at that Whomping Willow?’ James asked  
Remus said nothing. He did not dare hint that the Whomping Willow in the forest might be concealing a passageway. The other three would ask how he knew. Even if Dumbledore hadn’t told him to keep what he was and the passage to the Hogsmeade shack a secret, Remus did not want to risk losing friends he had just made by letting slip what he was.  
The morning of the match dawned pleasantly cool but drizzly. Remus, who had been talked into going to watch by the other three, sincerely hoped there would be covers over the stands. If he had to watch, he did not want to have to do it while wet.  
Despite the weather, the Great Hall was abuzz with excitement. Not only at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, but the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws also looked eager for the match. Remus supposed he had underestimated how popular Quidditch really was. Having never seen a game himself, it was difficult to imagine what the fuss was about.  
The Gryffindor team had pride of place at the house table with all the other Gryffindors shouting encouragement. They seemed deep in last minute preparations and were not paying much attention. Remus glanced over at the Slytherin table. Their team seemed to be doing much the same thing. Some of the older students from the two houses heckled the players from the other team, but they paid no more mind to these than the praises.  
At half past ten, the two teams left their house tables and headed off towards the pitch to get ready. The rest of the students followed not long after. Remus felt disheartened by the lack of covering he could see and wished he’d brought his cloak.  
James was looking longingly down at the Gryffindor changing rooms, clearly still wishing he’d made the team, though his expression lightened when he saw Lily and Snape take seats in the stands.  
‘So, who’ll you be cheering for, Evans?’ James called to her. Lily looked over and her expression darkened.  
‘Gryffindor, of course,’ she shouted.  
James’s smile widened a little.  
‘Just checking,’ he said, innocently, ‘didn’t know if Snivells would cry if you didn’t support his team.’  
Sirius and Peter laughed. Snape shot a hate filled look at James but Lily just looked contemptuous and turned back around. Remus looked at James, curiously. He had thought that James went after Lily so much purely because she was friends with Snape. Recently though…  
His thoughts were cut off as a voice boomed and echoed around the pitch.  
‘And welcome everyone today to the first match of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, always a bit of a grudge match between these long-time rivals,’ Remus recognised the voice as belonging to Evan Skylar, a Hufflepuff fourth year, ‘Gryffindor, as many of you will remember, came second in last year's table with Slytherin following at a close third. I daresay today will see a few scores settled.’  
This last sentence was punctuated by a roar of excitement from the Gryffindor and Slytherin sections of the crowd. That roar got, if possible, even louder as the changing room doors opened and the two teams came onto the pitch.  
‘And here are the Gryffindors,’ Skylar announced, ‘Congo, Niven, Rakepick, Longbottom, Cadogan and Farrow, led by Captain Jessica Duffy!’ The Gryffindors cheered their team. Remus could see Patricia Rakepick in the middle of the line, looking very calm, her broomstick over her shoulder.  
‘And the Slytherins, led by Captain Ralph Parkinson,’ Skylar went on, ‘Redwell, Avery, Appleton, Greengrass, Malfoy and Black.’  
That last name gave Remus a start. Looking down, he saw the same girl he had spotted across the lake.  
‘Oh yeah, I’d forgotten Andromeda was on the team,’ Sirius said, sounding almost interested.  
‘She good?’ James asked, also looking down at Sirius’s cousin.  
‘Pretty good, yeah,’ said Sirius, ‘she taught me and Regulus how to fly when we were little. I remember her zooming off over some trees while we tried to catch up. We only realised later they were toy brooms, wouldn’t go more than a couple of feet off the ground.’  
Madam Hooch was striding to the middle of the field, the trunk Remus had seen in her office under her arm.  
‘Captains, shake hands!’  
Parkinson strode forward and grabbed Duffy’s hand. Even from a distance, Remus thought the Slytherin captain was trying to break fingers, though Duffy seemed just as intent on doing the same thing.  
After longer than was necessary, the two came apart.  
‘Mount your brooms!’ Madam Hooch called.  
Remus watched both teams rise into the air as Madam Hooch opened the trunk. As she did so, two black balls rocketed into the sky, followed by something small and golden. And then the game began.  
‘And the Quaffle is taken by Avery of Slytherin, and away he goes. That boy is a very fast flyer – OOH - not fast enough though as Quaffle is intercepted by Niven, that’s Niven of Gryffindor, who passes to Rakepick - passes to Duffy - back to Rakepick who’s heading for goal – No! - Stopped by Bludger from Slytherin Beater Redwell. Rakepick drops the Quaffle and its grabbed by Appleton who makes for the Gryffindor goal – OUCH - that must have hurt, Appleton hit by second Bludger from Matthew Farrow. But Greengrass takes the Quaffle, so Slytherin still in possession. Greengrass passes to Avery who’s heading for goal. First attempt on goal and – Oh nice - Quaffle blocked by Gryffindor keeper Longbottom, who passes to Duffy and away she goes – she passes Greengrass – she dodges a Bludger – Appleton’s moving to intercept – OOF – but she’s hit by another Bludger from Farrow – Duffy passes to Niven – the goalposts are right ahead – she shoots – Keeper Malfoy…misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!’  
Gryffindor cheers filled the air along with moans from the Slytherins.  
Remus thought he was just about able to follow what was happening. He knew the rules of the game, he’d borrowed a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages from the Library when he knew he was going to watch.  
But a book could never come close to describing how fast the action was, nor how full of energy the crowd was. In spite of himself, Remus found himself beginning to get caught up in things. He found his eyes darting, every so often, to the two seekers, Theo Congo and Andromeda Black, who were keeping away from the action of the game, soaring in loops around the stadium. Remus knew each was looking for a tell-tale glint of gold. The snitch, the small gold thing that had flown out of the trunk, that was worth a hundred and fifty points. That seemed a ridiculously high number to Remus but he supposed those who’d invented the game had had their reasons.  
A Bludger zoomed at Theo Congo at one point, but it was knocked towards Andromeda Black by Owen Cadogan. Sirius’s cousin had to roll in mid-air to avoid it. She did seem to be a very good flyer.  
‘Slytherin in possession,’ Skylar was soon announcing, ‘Greengrass dodges a Bludger - dodges Rakepick – dodges Black, wait what’s she doing?’  
Andromeda had zoomed past her teammate, nearly taking Greengrass off her broom. Remus realised what was going on the same instant as everyone else.  
‘She’s seen the snitch!’ Skylar screamed. Above, Congo dived.  
Remus watched with baited breath as the two seekers zoomed towards a small speck of gold over by the Slytherin goal posts.  
WOOSH! WOOSH!  
A Beater from each team appeared to have had the same idea at the same time. Cadogan had sent one bludger rocketing at Andromeda while Parkinson had sent the other at Congo. The two seekers had each been forced to swerve violently to avoid a nasty collision. By the time the two seekers had righted themselves, the snitch had disappeared.  
The supporters of both teams groaned with disappointment, but there was a smattering of applause for the two beaters. Parkinson looked surly, but Cadogan grinned and swept into a bow on his broom before speeding off.  
‘Well a little disappointing for both teams there,’ Skylar said through the magical megaphone, ‘but play continues, with Gryffindor back in possession.’  
Gryffindor managed to score three more times before the Slytherins were able to pass their defences and score a goal of their own. From what Remus could see, there was very little difference in skill between the six chasers. The two teams were very well matched.  
‘Avery passes to Greengrass, who passes to Appleton – She dodges an interception from Niven and she’s nearly at the goal…’  
A loud shout of anger went up from the Slytherins a moment later. The two Gryffindor beaters had sent both Bludgers at Appleton at the same time. Appleton had managed to avoid both, but narrowly, and one of the Bludgers had knocked the Quaffle out of her hand.  
Remus expected Appleton to dive and retrieve it but, to his surprise, she instead took off after Farrow and Cadogan, screaming threats and abuse while the two beaters rocketed off, both howling with laughter.  
‘Appleton loses the Quaffle,’ Skylar announced, sounding amused, ‘the Gryffindor Beaters using the Bludger Bombardment manoeuvre there. Greengrass takes possession of the Quaffle - she’s heading for goal – and Slytherin scores! Forty - twenty to Gryffindor!’  
Remus looked over at James to see what he thought of this development, the Gryffindor beaters had not done what they were supposed to do as they had been too busy teasing Appleton (they were still laughing while flying in loops around her) but he then realised that he wasn’t there. Sirius too had disappeared.  
‘Where’d they go?’ Remus asked Peter, who looked as confused as he did. Above them, Malfoy saved a penalty that had been awarded to Patricia for Cobbing by Martin Redwell.  
Peter shrugged.  
‘They were here a second ago.’  
Remus looked back around. The other two were nowhere in sight.  
‘Gryffindor scores!’ Skylar’s commentary went on, ‘fifty-twenty to Gryffindor!’  
A sudden shriek got Remus’s attention. And then he knew exactly where James and Sirius had gone.  
Snape, howling in fury and embarrassment, was being dragged slowly but surely out of his seat and up into the air by his shoes. Remus did not have to look far to see the cause.  
James and Sirius had taken position at either end of the stand and appeared to be using the levitation spell, one shoe each, to drag Snape into the air. Lily was trying to pull him back down, but she was the only one trying to help. The rest of the students were laughing.  
Remus supposed a little while ago, he might have helped Lily but after what Snape had tried to do to their brooms, he could not conjure up much sympathy for the other boy. He would not help James and Sirius, of course, but he was not about to stop them. Peter was joining in the laughter and Remus couldn’t help but smile too as Snape was hoisted up out of reach of Lily.  
‘Potter! Black!’ the voice cracked like a whip over the heads of the students. Remus looked back to see Professor Winyard, his arm looking much healthier now, his hands on his hips and glaring at his two friends. Snape fell to the ground with a thump as James and Sirius, who had both been crouching, stood up, looking like rabbits who’ve spotted the fox. ‘To my office,’ Winyard snapped, ‘now!’  
Now looking like rabbits caught in the snare, James and Sirius climbed the steps towards the professor. Sirius was just passing Remus when a shout from Skylar made everyone stop and look.  
‘They’ve definitely spotted something!’ Skylar’s voice echoed and Remus saw that both seekers were, again, shooting towards a glint of gold far above them.  
Congo was a little ahead, he was smaller than Andromeda and so lighter, but Sirius’s cousin was in hot pursuit and gaining. All four beaters on the field were chasing Bludgers but no one sent one towards the seekers. The two were so close, none seemed to want to risk hitting their own seeker.  
Suddenly the snitch changed direction. Congo was not able to change direction in time, Andromeda, though, turned in a graceful arc, over and down and, with a swipe of her hand, caught the snitch on the way past.  
The Slytherins erupted.  
‘Slytherin win!’ Skylar announced through the megaphone, ‘final score: a hundred and seventy points to fifty, Slytherin win!’  
Remus felt disappointed. He could not tell why. He hadn’t been playing. And yet he watched the Gryffindor team land with a feeling of definite unhappiness. He had wanted his team to win. And then he watched the Slytherin team land and knew how happy he would have been in Gryffindor had won. He now understood why people got so excited by Quidditch. In that moment, he was feeling the same way as everyone else in his house. That evening they would all commiserate together about their loss. And if they had won, they would have all celebrated together. And a spark of happiness shot through his gloom. In that moment, he felt more a part of Gryffindor than he had since arriving at the school.  
Slytherins were streaming onto the pitch now, though strangely at the lead was a fair-haired Ravenclaw seventh year boy. He reached Andromeda before anyone else and swept her up in a warm hug before kissing her on the lips. This provoked whistles and cat-calls from the crowd, which only grew louder when Andromeda wrapped her arms around the boy’s neck and kissed him back.  
Remus looked at Sirius, questioningly.  
‘He’s called Edward Tonks,’ Sirius explained, ‘he’s a muggle-born. Apparently, they started going out at the end of last year. She told me.’  
So that must have been where she’d been sneaking off to that day. To have some alone time with her boyfriend. But why make such a secret out of it?  
‘Her parents are not going to like this,’ Sirius said. Remus, who’d been watching the Gryffindor team return to their changing rooms, turned to look at him. Sirius was no longer watching Andromeda and Tonks but was looking down at a blonde girl who was in the crowd around the team. This girl had been talking to Malfoy, the Slytherin keeper, but was now looking at Andromeda, her face strangely blank.  
‘Black!’ The voice came so suddenly it made Remus and Sirius jump. Professor Winyard was still looking down at them, his nostrils flaring. ‘When I told you to go to my office, I meant now!’  
Sirius grimaced at Remus and then climbed the steps up to where Winyard waited.  
The common room was subdued that evening. The Gryffindors sat about, drinking bottles of butterbeer that had been passed around by Patricia, Cadogan and Farrow. Remus wondered where they’d gotten it from but didn’t bother asking. Peter sat beside him, looking worried. James and Sirius still hadn’t returned from Winyard’s office.  
Then the portrait hole opened and the two of them climbed in.  
‘We had to wait for McGonagall,’ James explained, darkly as he took a bottle of butterbeer from Cadogan, ‘so she could explain every detail about why what we did was wrong.’  
‘And she still didn’t convince us,’ Sirius sniggered, ‘I’d say it was more than fair. Snivellus tried to knock James off his broom, so we give him a flying lesson.’  
‘But it was cut short anyway,’ James went on, ‘Winyard said he had to go out into the forest. “To check on the altar”, he said. So he gave us a detention and then went off.’  
‘Into the forest?’ Remus said, before he could stop himself. James nodded, a covert expression on his face.  
‘We thought the same thing,’ he said, ‘maybe he’s going back to that Willow, right?’  
‘But I didn’t see any altar when we were there,’ Sirius said.  
‘Maybe it’s a code for something?’ Peter ventured.  
The evening passed by as the four of them discussed what “altar” could possibly be code for. It all boiled down to two simple questions. What was the altar? And was it hidden beneath the Whomping Willow?


	12. Christmas in the Castle

Cold winds blew across the grounds, breaking against the walls of Hogwarts like waves on the seashore, stirring up the fallen snow into drifts that piled against the doors and windows. Or else the wind came howling through the corridors and tunnels that wound around the school. Students took to wearing their cloaks and scarves as they walked between classes. Some of the older students even used heat aura spells on themselves and were seen walking through the corridors with a warm haze surrounding them, like a bubble, some of them managing to melt the frost on the windows as they walked past.  
Everyone was looking forward to the holidays. All but Sirius, who had told them he had no wish to return home for the holidays.  
‘My mother doesn’t believe in celebrating Christmas,’ he said, sullenly, ‘or celebrating anything for that matter.’  
Professor McGonagall had come around the Gryffindors early in December, making a list of all the students in her house who were remaining there for the holidays. Sirius had been among the first to sign his name. There had not been many others. That was until James had stepped forward to sign his own name.  
‘Mum and Dad won’t mind,’ he said, confidently, ‘and I’m not going to just leave you here alone, am I?’  
The second surprise had been when Peter had stepped forward to sign his name underneath James’s.  
‘My mum always goes to my uncle’s house for Christmas,’ he said, a little nervously, ‘I don’t think she’ll miss me too much if I don’t come along for once.’  
All three of them had looked at Remus then. He’d hesitated. In truth, he’d been looking forward to seeing his parents, telling them about everything he’d learned, not to mention the fact he’d made friends. But on the other hand, he did not want to be the only one of them not there. And, for another thing, he wanted to remain in Hogwarts to find out more about this altar that Professor Winyard had mentioned.  
Remus knew it must be important, why else would it have been hidden under the other Whomping Willow?  
‘Not sure why you’re bothered,’ Sirius had said one evening, when Remus had voiced this thought, ‘not like it concerns us.’  
‘You don’t know that,’ James had said, a cheeky gleam in his eye, ‘it might be some kind of magical weapon that can blow up the school. I’d find that pretty concerning.’  
Sirius snorted, blowing his fringe out of his eyes. He’d been letting his hair grow longer since he’d reached Hogwarts and it was now nearly down to the nape of his neck.  
‘You’re just nosy, Potter,’ he said, though there was a smile on his face despite his words.  
‘Not nosy, inquisitive,’ James answered back, ‘and that’s good for someone my age. Professor Dumbledore said so.’   
‘When did he say that?’ Sirius demanded; one eyebrow raised.  
‘He said it to my dad,’ James explained, ‘Dumbledore was his teacher.’  
Remus let the rest of this conversation wash over his head. He knew Sirius was right. It really was none of their concern what was under that Willow, nor why Winyard was apparently after it. But he could not help being curious. What could be so important that it would need the same amount of guarding as a werewolf?   
Whatever it was, it seemed to be distracting Winyard. The others might say he was imagining things but Remus was sure that he was only half paying attention to things he was teaching them in their Defence Against the Dark Arts these days. They’d just moved onto Doxies, small reptilian, humanoid creatures that were known for having a nasty bite. Though Professor Winyard had handed out cans of Doxy spray, he’d neglected to mention that the spray would only make them woozy, not unconscious. This had led to Mara Donahue holding the doxy a bit too long and getting a bite on her thumb which had swollen and turned an impressive aubergine colour.  
Remus had not been in that particular class. He’d been in the hospital wing recovering from the first of the two full moons there would be that month, the other being on New Year’s Eve (Professor Mayhew had been quick to provide Remus with a Lunar chart), and had heard the story second hand from Lily when he’d returned to the common room.  
He felt he’d gotten into a good routine with his monthly transformations now. His friends seemed to have swallowed the story about his mother being so sick that she needed periodic visits. None of them questioned why these visits were always around the same time every month, which suited Remus perfectly.   
Snape, on the other hand, was another matter.  
Remus was not sure why, but he thought Snape might suspect what he really was. Whenever he mentioned going to visit his mother around Lily, he saw Snape’s eyes narrow, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.  
The worst part about this was he could not tell anyone about his fears. For the first time in his life, he had real friends but how long would James, Sirius and Peter stick around if they knew what he really was? Even Lily would likely be horrified if she found out.  
He thought about telling Dumbledore, or one of the teachers. But he did not want to bother the headmaster and as for the teachers, well they did a passable job of pretending they didn’t know about him, some more so than others (Professor Slughorn’s smile was particularly fixed when he looked at Remus) but Remus did not want to risk them getting worried and sending him away from Hogwarts. So, he kept his silence.  
Once the Christmas holidays began, however, all thoughts of what the altar was and his worries about Snape quickly disappeared from Remus’s head. Most of the house had gone home for Christmas so James, Sirius, Remus and Peter often had the common room to themselves and so spent their evenings sitting by the fire. Remus would read while the other three discussed new and more inventive ways of tormenting Snape, or rather Sirius and James came up with the ideas while Peter giggled. Sometimes they would play exploding snap or wizard chess. Remus had never played the game before but quickly found himself enjoying it. He played more often with James, who was pretty good, as both Sirius and Peter were terrible at the game   
Patricia Rakepick, the Gryffindor prefect, was one of the few others who had remained at Hogwarts and she sometimes joined them, laughing along with Peter at the plans James and Sirius came up with for Snape, and even sometimes offering advice. Listening to her, she’d pulled a fair few pranks in her time. So much so that Remus was quite surprised she’d been chosen to be a prefect.   
Jessica Duffy, the Quidditch captain, would be there in the evenings and she and Patricia would often sit together discussing tactics, with James sitting close by, trying to listen in. Theo Congo, the seeker, would sometimes be there, but he would often disappear in the evenings. “To visit someone,” he said, which the two girls found highly amusing.  
On Christmas Eve, the four of them went to bed quite late and sat up in bed even later talking about what they might get up to the next day and the feast that would no doubt have been prepared.  
When Remus woke up the next morning, he was surprised to see a pile of presents had been left at the foot of his bed.  
‘Happy Christmas,’ said James, who was already awake and opening the parcels in his own pile, which was by far the biggest in the dormitory, ‘thanks for the book.’ He pointed at the volume lying on his bedside table A Hundred and One Advanced Manoeuvres for Fancy Fliers.   
‘No problem,’ Remus smiled as he unwrapped a large box of assorted sweets which was James’s present to him.  
Sirius and Peter had woken up by this point. Peter was excitedly unwrapping a lumpy looking package that turned out to be a truly hideous orange and blue jumper that Peter pulled on, happily. There was a clink of coins as Sirius pulled open a small, velvet purse.  
‘Five galleons, from my parents,’ said Sirius by way of explanation when he met Remus’s questioning look, ‘and a card from my brother.’   
‘How…thoughtful,’ said Remus, diplomatically. James snorted. Sirius did not seem to notice. He set his brother’s card up on his bedside table before dropping the coin purse into his trunk will a dull thud.  
Remus turned back to his own presents. Sirius had gotten him a large book of his own When Monsters Met Muggles, a book all about the times in history when muggles encountered magical creatures and the effects this had had on muggle culture. Peter had gotten him a small, self-lighting lamp.   
As he opened the present from his parents, a note fell out. Picking it up, Remus read:  
Dear Remus,  
Thought we’d get you something different this year so here’s something fun for outside the library.  
Have fun.  
Mum and Dad.  
It was a large bag from Gambol and Japes, the wizarding joke shop in Diagon Alley.  
‘Oh, nice!’ James exclaimed, jumping off his bed to get a closer look. Remus noticed he was still only halfway through his pile. ‘What did you get?’  
Remus, having no idea what to expect, pulled the bag open revealing a plethora of magical mischief making.   
A walking whoopee cushion, Disappearing robes, boil powder, a large rubber fish, fake dragon poo (steams realistically), and two bags of sweets; Froth-mouth Fudge and Dragon breath Bonbons. The final thing in the bag was a small box, about the size of Remus’s hand.   
“Detonation Dart” it said on the box. Remus turned it over. “This fun new creation comes equipped with a reusable Crepitus Charm, throw the dart to produce a small but satisfying explosion, perfect for giving friends a scare.  
‘Wow!’ Peter had also come to investigate Remus’s gift, ‘your parents sent you that?’  
‘My parents would never let me get away with having stuff like that,’ James laughed as he watched the Walking Whoopee Cushion trotting leisurely across Remus’s bed, letting out a soft fart every few steps.  
‘My parents would need to grow a sense of humour first,’ said Sirius, smiling, despite his words, as the rubber fish suddenly squawked loudly and turned into a rubber chicken with a soft pop.  
‘I can’t believe they got all this for me,’ said Remus, inspecting the bag of Froth-Mouth Fudge.   
He had never really been much of a prankster so he could not see why his parents would have thought this would be something he would get much use out of. Though, as he watched James trying on the disappearing robes, which promptly vanished after he’d taken a few steps resulting in loud laughs from the other three boys, maybe it hadn’t been just himself that they’d had in mind.   
‘I can definitely think of a use for this,’ James was saying. He’d taken the bag of Froth-Mouth Fudge from Remus and was now inspecting the bag with a positively evil expression that Remus knew by now meant he was thinking of Snape.  
He had gotten his revenge for James and Sirius’s attack at the Quidditch match just before the Christmas break. In the middle of Defence Against the Dark Arts, while everyone else had been focussed on the Marsh Wisp that Professor Winyard had brought in for them, he had hit James’s shoes with a shrinking curse, causing them to go down nearly three sizes. James had howled so loudly that, for one wild moment, Remus had thought there was another werewolf in the class.  
Professor Winyard had been able to perform the counter curse before any real damage had been done. He had then given Snape a detention, though that had not seemed to bother the greasy haired boy, who had flashed a snide grin at James.   
Remus, for his part, had been surprised Snape had known a curse like that. From what he knew they were not due to start on minor curses like that until the end of their first year. Maybe Snape had read ahead?  
‘Maybe if I give Evans some real fudge,’ James was thinking out loud, ‘it’ll make him less suspicious.’  
‘You could even refuse to give him any until Evans tells you to,’ Sirius added. He was smiling wickedly too, ‘if he thinks you don’t want to share, he won’t think you’re trying to get him.’  
The four of them then passed an enjoyable morning, Remus listening to James and Sirius coming up with plans for what they might do with Remus’s bag of tricks, Peter piping in every now and again, until they realised it was time to head down for breakfast.  
They met Patricia in the common room. She was wearing a new Holyhead Harpies jersey.  
‘Get anything good?’ she asked them after bidding them a good morning and a merry Christmas.  
‘One or two things,’ James said, a wide grin on his face, ‘show her the bag, Lupin.’  
Remus did so, and Patricia’s eyes widened in the same way James’s had when he’d first seen the bag.   
‘Oh you lucky little git,’ she said, a broad smile on her face, ‘who sent you all that?’  
‘His parents,’ James answered. Patricia barked a laugh then accompanied downstairs to the great hall, listening to all the plans they had made.   
Remus had half expected her to tell them off, or at least discourage them from some of their nastier ideas. She had listened to their plans in the common room, true, but now they were talking about actually doing something and she was a prefect after all. But far from it, she actually gave James and Sirius new ideas. Remus would have never dreamed there were so many uses for a walking whoopee cushion.  
When they arrived at the Great Hall, Remus was surprised to see that all but one of the long house tables had been removed from the hall. The moderate number of students who had remained at Hogwarts were sat along it having breakfast. Remus saw that, despite there only being one table, the students were sticking to their house groups as they ate.  
He, James, Sirius and Peter found a space with the other Gryffindors. As he tucked into some scrambled eggs, garnished with red and green bell peppers, Remus glanced up at the staff table.   
The majority of the teachers were there. Dumbledore, wearing a very lurid red hat decorated with a holly wreath, chatted merrily with Professor McGonagall while Professor Slughorn quaffed from a goblet that looked to be mulled wine from the rosy colour in his corpulent cheeks. Professor Keythorpe was calmly tucking into his breakfast while Professor Sprout, sat to his side, said something to Hagrid, who was sitting at the end of the table, that made him laugh.  
Hagrid looked up and saw the four of them then. He waved at Remus and mouthed “Merry Christmas” before turning back to his conversation with Professor Sprout.  
‘I didn’t know you knew Hagrid,’ said James, who had noticed the gamekeeper’s greeting.  
‘Wasn’t he involved with something nasty that happened about thirty years ago?’ Sirius asked through a mouthful of bacon.   
‘Yes,’ said Peter, nodding, ‘I heard a girl got killed because of something he was keeping as a pet.’  
‘He didn’t do it on purpose though,’ said James, ‘it was just an accident.’  
Remus shook his head.  
‘My dad told me all that was rubbish,’ he said, ‘he was in the same year as Hagrid and he said it was something else that killed that girl and it wasn’t Hagrid’s fault. He said he couldn’t tell me any more than that though.’  
This bit of information seemed to amaze his three friends and they passed the rest of breakfast wondering what might have actually killed that girl thirty years ago.  
It was only as they were leaving the Great Hall that Remus realised something. Professor Winyard had not been at breakfast. To be fair, quite a few of the teachers Remus had seen around the school had not been there but Remus couldn’t help but wonder if Winyard had not been there because he was making another attempt to find the Altar.  
‘So, what shall we do?’ James asked as they turned into the entrance hall, ‘we’ve got nothing to do until dinner time.’  
‘I almost wish Snivellus was here,’ Sirius said, wistfully, and Remus knew he was thinking of the bag of tricks again.   
James laughed.  
‘Well there’s other stuff we can do, right?’  
They passed an enjoyable morning wandering the grounds, exploring the places they had not yet been to. Remus was a little surprised at how much there was around Hogwarts. Even if you did not include the Forbidden Forest, there was so much around the castle. They found a small river, that seemed to feed into the lake, and followed that up into the mountains that surrounded the school until the climb became too steep. On the way back, they bumped into Hagrid who walked back with them to the castle. Remus was worried that one of the others might ask him about the girl but fortunately none of them were quite that tactless.  
Christmas dinner proved to be one of the best Remus had ever eaten. The ones he’d enjoyed with his parents had always been good but this was something on another level. The turkeys were huge and roasted to a perfect golden brown. They were accompanied by mountains of roast potatoes, carrots, parsnips, peas, sprouts soaked in garlic butter, large platters of pigs in blankets and silver boats of rich gravy and cranberry sauce.  
And beside each place was a wizard cracker. This was something Remus had never seen before. His parents had never gotten them, for fear of disturbing the neighbours. Eagerly, he picked his up and pulled it with Peter. It came apart with a blast like cannon fire and both boys were immediately engulfed in a cloud of green smoke that smelled like fresh-mown grass. The smoke finally cleared to reveal a tricorn hat with a big green feather poking up from it. This Remus happily pulled onto his head. He was not the only one.   
Up at the staff table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard’s hat for what looked to be a Royal Guard Bearskin while Hagrid had a tall pointed hat, decorated with flashing stars and planets, perched atop his mass of hair. Remus looked again along the table. All the teachers were there this time. All except Professor Winyard.   
After the dinner was cleared and they had had their fill of Christmas pudding, the four boys left the table, each with arms full of prizes from their crackers, their stomachs weighed down by all the food.  
Patricia had been talking about getting a snowball fight started, but everyone was so full from dinner that they spent much of the rest of the day in the common room, quietly dozing in the heat of the fire, playing games of wizard chess, exploding snap and Gobstones.   
They didn’t even bother going down for tea, instead James passed around a box of treats he’d received from his parents. As Remus munched on a cauldron cake, his mind couldn’t help returning to Professor Winyard. Breakfast wasn’t that suspicious but dinner as well? And to be the only teacher not there. Something was definitely suspicious.   
There was too much that he didn’t know. What was the altar? What was it for? Why was Winyard apparently so interested in it? What made it so dangerous that it needed a Whomping Willow planted over it?  
Questions he had already asked himself whirled again and again around his head as he got ready for bed.   
The other three, having no such problems, climbed into their beds and were quickly asleep, Peter’s soft snores filling the room. Remus lay awake for many hours, thinking.


	13. A Drop of Blood

‘Will you give it a rest, Lupin!’  
Remus looked up from his book. The common room was a good deal fuller than it had been for the past two weeks. The Christmas holidays were drawing to a close and many of the students were starting to return to Hogwarts. Not everyone was back yet, most would be coming by the Hogwarts Express the following day. The ones who had returned were those who had arrived in Hogsmeade by floo powder of by the Knight Bus.   
The four of them had struggled to find a decent spot in the common room that evening but had finally secured a squashy sofa by the armchair. James, Sirius and Peter were playing a game of Exploding Snap while Remus had pulled a book from his bag and settled down to read. Though that reading had now been interrupted.  
‘What?’ Remus demanded.   
Sirius, who had been the one to interrupt, rolled his eyes.  
‘You know what,’ he said, ‘you’re still harping on about that altar thing.’  
‘I didn’t say anything!’ Remus protested.   
James sniggered.  
‘Come off it, Lupin. What else would you be looking at that book for?’  
Remus looked back down at the weathered, somewhat flaky pages. James had a point. But the problem of the altar had been driving him half mad. He’d been going to the library every chance he got, trying desperately to find any reference he could to altars and how they might be used in magic.  
But, try as he might, he had been unsuccessful. He had been through Artefacts of Wizarding History and One Hundred Magical Monuments and neither had even mentioned any altar, magical or otherwise. He had even tried reading When Religion meets Magic but that too had not mentioned an altar being used for any magical purposes, asides from there usually being one present during old religious rites.  
He had thought he had finally struck gold when he’d found a whole section on ancient magical rites in The Origins of Modern Magic but the only thing about altars he had been able to find in there had just stated that they were; “…no longer relevant to magical study”. Remus remembered he had closed that book with considerable chagrin. Why bother mentioning them at all?  
His studies had been interrupted over the new year due to the full moon. Two disappearances in a month had been especially hard to explain to his friends but he thought he’d been able to convince them with his story that he had wanted to visit after not going back for Christmas. As soon as he had recovered, he’d been right back in the library.  
The real problem was that the Hogwarts library was so enormous and he did not really have anything but the word “altar” to go on. The information he needed was probably in there, but he might never find it.   
Patricia had told him about the Restricted Section. Full of books, she said, about advanced dark magic that only O.W.L. students and older were allowed to read. If the altar was connected to dark magic, then the information he wanted might well be in there. But if that was the case than Remus knew he’d never get it. You needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to get in and what exactly would he say to Professor McGonagall when she asked why he wanted it?  
The book he was reading now was A Guide to the Obscurely Arcane and it had proved just as empty of useful information as all the others. He’d found some short sentences on altars but, much like the Origins of Modern Magic, it was always in reference to outdated, Iron Age sorcery that taught him nothing but the fact that he never wanted to visit Stonehenge.   
‘Why don’t you just ask Professor Winyard what it is?’ Peter asked as he tentatively put down a card. ‘If anyone can tell you what it is then he can.’  
‘Don’t be thick, Pettigrew,’ James said, ‘if Winyard’s after it for some dodgy reason then what’s he going to do when some kid comes asking about it?’  
Remus slammed the book shut, feeling frustrated.  
‘I just don’t understand how none of you care about it,’ he said, ‘you all saw him in the Forbidden Forest and you heard him talking about the altar. How come none of you want to know?’  
Sirius shrugged.  
‘Well, I mean, he is a teacher,’ he said, ‘he probably knows what he’s doing. And Dumbledore doesn’t seem worried about it.’  
‘Besides,’ James cut in, smiling, ‘there’s other things to be thinking about. Like the next Quidditch match. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, remember? It’ll be a chance for us to get some points back if we win.’  
Remus did not exactly share James’s excitement. Quidditch had been enjoyable, certainly, but it hardly seemed to matter. He did not know why but he was sure that the altar, whatever it was, was important. And Professor Winyard knew it too.  
James seemed to read this on Remus’s face and made an exasperated noise.  
‘Look, if I help you find out what this altar thing is, will you shut up about it?’  
Remus looked at him, surprised.  
‘Well, yes,’ he said, hesitantly, ‘but how are you going to do that?’  
‘It's obvious, isn’t it?’ said James, ‘if Professor Winyard knows about the altar, then he must have some information about it.’  
Sirius seemed to know already what James had in mind, for he was smiling widely. Remus, however, had not caught up yet. Peter looked completely mystified.   
‘And he’ll probably have that information,’ James went on, patiently, ‘in his office.’   
Remus felt his eyes widen.  
‘Are you insane?’ he hissed, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. ‘You want to break into Winyard’s office?’   
Peter gasped. Sirius let out a laugh that sounded like a bark. James shrugged, still smiling.  
‘You’ve got to admit,’ he said, ‘you’re more likely to find what you need in there than you are in the library.’  
Remus bit his lip. He couldn’t deny that James had a point, but even so, breaking into a teacher’s office?’  
‘How would you do it?’ Peter asked, sounding as scared and excited as he always did when he heard James’s plans.  
James looked at Remus.  
‘We use your Christmas present,’ he said, ‘the one from your parents. We’ll need to lure Winyard out of his office and keep him out long enough for Lupin to find what he’s after.’  
Sirius was nodding, thoughtfully.  
‘We wouldn’t be able to just wait for him to not be in his office?’  
James shook his head.  
‘He keeps it locked,’ he said, ‘and Alohomora doesn’t work on it.’  
‘How do you know that?’   
‘I may have given it a go a couple of times,’ James admitted, ‘I’ve been thinking of doing this for a while now.’ He looked pointedly at Remus and his book. Sirius laughed again.  
‘So, we make a distraction,’ James explained, ‘one of us goes in and tells him something’s exploded, maybe that Peeves had dropped a suit of armour in the corridor or something, he comes running out with them, Lupin runs in, grabs what he needs and runs out. Easy.’  
‘Yeah,’ said Remus, hesitantly, ‘except I don’t know what I’m looking for.’  
‘Well if you’ve got a better idea, then I’m all ears.’  
Remus thought long and hard. He’d been looking through the library for weeks and had found nothing. He supposed they could try James’s plan. If he didn’t find anything in Winyard’s office then they were not any worse off.  
‘Alright,’ he said, ‘but I want to use your dad’s cloak.’  
James grinned, Sirius let out another bark like laugh, Peter looked excited.   
In the next hour, the plan was laid out. They would have to do it that day, they knew, before the rest of the school came back. Sirius would cause the diversion, Peter would run in and tell Winyard there had been an explosion at the other end of the corridor. When Winyard went to investigate, James and Remus would go in under the invisibility cloak. James would keep watch and Remus would search.  
It had seemed like a good plan in the common room, however now that Remus was actually stood outside the office, under the cloak with James, it seemed completely mental.  
‘Are you sure this will work?’ he whispered, hoarsely, to James. James shrugged.  
‘I mean it probably will,’ he said, ‘but it’s a bit late to back out now.’  
As if in response to his words, there came a terrific Bang from down the corridor, so loud that it looked to Remus like the windows shivered in their frames.  
‘Wow,’ James chuckled, ‘that detonation dart is good, isn’t it?’  
Remus didn’t get the chance to answer, for at that moment the office door burst open.  
Professor Winyard, it seemed, did not need to be fetched. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher stood in the doorway, wand out, a grim expression on his face.  
‘What the hell was that?’  
Remus turned in time to see Peter running up the corridor, looking convincingly worried.  
‘Professor!’ he called as he ran, ‘professor! A suit of armour exploded! Black was right next to it, please Professor, he needs help!’   
If it were a ruse, it was a very convincing one. Peter looked genuinely worried. Winyard did not answer but instead began running up the corridor, Peter hot on his heels.  
Remus turned to look at James. He, too, was looking concerned. Maybe he thought that Peter was a little too convincing as well. But then he said.  
‘We’ll find out later, let's carry on.’  
And so, together, they went in through the open door.  
Professor Winyard’s office was a very high-ceilinged room, though not overly wide. An expansive desk took up most of the space at one end. On the other side of the room, set into the corner as if to try and get it as out of the way as possible, was a large cabinet. The cabinet had been shut with a big, very old-looking, padlock.  
James stayed by the door, under the cloak, while Remus ducked out. He decided in that instant that the desk would be the best place to start. He began pulling out drawers to examine the contents. He found quills, rolls of parchment and plenty of books, though most were about advanced defensive magic. The top of the desk too was a clutter of papers, mostly student homework waiting to be marked.   
Remus huffed impatiently. There was nothing here that could help him. And he didn’t want to move anything too much in case Winyard noticed.  
‘Quickly,’ James hissed back at him, ‘it can’t be much longer.’  
Remus desperately looked through the desk again. There had to be something. Then, he saw it. A small, leather bound book buried at the bottom of the drawer. Curious, he pulled it out. The inside was full of writing, small, very neat writing that Remus recognised as Professor Winyard’s own. This must be some kind of journal.  
‘Come on,’ James snapped.  
Not giving himself time to think, Remus grabbed the journal and ran to where James stood. He threw the cloak over Remus and together they moved out of the office.  
Remus saw they had been just in time. Professor Winyard was striding back up the corridor, his face looking thunderous.  
‘Damn, stupid kids,’ he snarled as he passed by James and Remus before slamming his office door shut.   
Hardly daring to believe their luck, Remus crept back up the corridor with James. When they were out of sight of Winyard’s office, they pulled off the cloak.  
‘Did you get it?’ James asked.   
By way of answer, Remus pulled out the journal and opened it.  
‘I think it's his,’ he explained, ‘I was thinking he might have left a note in here about what the altar is.’  
James sniffed, apparently unconvinced.  
‘Well now you have something new to read,’ he said, sardonically, ‘come on, we should go make sure Sirius is ok.’  
‘Hang on!’ Remus exclaimed. He had been flicking through the pages when the word “altar” had caught his eye. Flipping back to the page, he saw it. It was a scrap of paper that looked like it had been torn out of a book and taped into the journal. Quickly read through it. With each line, his eyes grew wider and wider.  
‘What?’ James demanded, clearly impatient.  
Remus looked up at James and something in his face must have made the other boy realise the seriousness of the situation.  
‘What?’ James asked again, though this time sounded worried.  
‘It’s a weapon,’ said Remus, ‘the altar. Look.’  
He passed the journal to James and pointed at the place he had been reading.  
‘The Altar of the Moon,’ James read aloud, ‘was used in an ancient ritual linked with…’ he paused, blinked, then went on, ‘linked with the creation of werewolves.’ He looked up at Remus. ‘What?’  
‘We should get back to the common room,’ said Remus.  
*  
Sirius had not been badly hurt. In fact, the whole thing had been his idea. After Remus and James had left them, he had thought the best way to keep Winyard’s attention would be if he was injured and had to be seen to.   
After quickly telling Peter what to do, he had thrown the detonation dart into a nearby suit of armour. The explosion had thrown him back against the opposite wall hard enough to leave him stunned. Peter, as per Sirius’s instructions, had grabbed the dart from inside the wreckage of the suit of armour and had then made for Winyard’s office.  
James and Remus were only waiting in the common room a short time before the portrait hole opened and a well bandaged Sirius crawled through, accompanied by Peter.  
‘Bet that gave you enough time,’ Sirius was grinning as he walked over, limping slightly, ‘there’s no way Winyard thought I was faking it. Pettigrew’s really the one who sold it though.’  
Peter looked embarrassed but also a little pleased.  
‘It wasn’t that hard,’ he said, ‘you did look really hurt.’  
‘I was really hurt,’ said Sirius, ‘nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix though. What’s up with you two?’  
He had stopped before where James and Remus were sitting and had finally noticed the expressions on their faces. Peter came to stand by his shoulder, his eyes now full of worry.  
‘We found out what the altar is,’ James answered, grimly, ‘Winyard had notes on it.’  
Sirius raised an eyebrow.  
‘So, Lupin can stop going on about it now, right?’   
‘Nope,’ Remus said, shortly. He handed the journal to Sirius to read. He had gone over it so many times now, that he knew it off by heart. Winyard had made many notes and annotations around the torn page, but the original text was still easily legible:  
Though few of the magical altars used in ancient sorcery survive in the modern day, there are several that have retained their power through the centuries. Of these number, there are few that have had as large an impact on the magical world as the Altar of the Moon. Believed to date to ancient Mesopotamia, the Altar of the Moon was used in an ancient ritual linked with the creation of Werewolves.  
Though the current location of the altar is unknown, it is widely believed to still exist given that the destruction of the ancient altars has been a matter of record throughout wizarding history.   
Sirius finished reading and lowered the journal, his eyes wide. Peter, who had been reading over Sirius’s shoulder, looked horrified.   
‘This is what Winyard’s after?’ he gasped.  
‘Looks like it,’ James murmured, taking the journal back off Sirius. ‘You see what he’s written here? Under where it says no one knows where the altar is, he’s written “Willow”. Anyone want to put a galleon on where that is?’  
‘But why?’ said Peter, his voice rising in pitch, ‘why would anyone want that?’  
‘Winyard wrote that down as well,’ Remus said, gravely. He took the journal from James and flipped over a couple of pages. ‘Ritual is activated by blood,’ he read aloud from the notes, ‘blood on the altar during full moon will cause transformation. Plan to use werewolf blood.’  
‘Plan to use werewolf blood?’ Sirius echoed. ‘What does that mean?’  
‘I’d guess Winyard is planning on using a werewolf’s blood to perform this ritual,’ said James, ‘can’t see what that would do, though.’   
Sirius looked equally puzzled. Peter was still looking confused.  
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.   
Sirius rolled his eyes.  
‘Use your brain, Pettigrew,’ he said, ‘if the regular ritual needed werewolf blood then there would never have been any werewolves, would there? My guess is when this ritual was first done, a person would put their own blood on the altar and that would make them turn into a werewolf.’  
‘So,’ James went on, ‘what would happen if you used the blood of someone who was already a werewolf? What do you think, Lupin? Lupin?’  
Remus started. He’d only half been paying attention.   
‘No idea,’ he said, ‘there are no books on altars in the library that I can find.’  
‘So, what should we do?’ asked Peter, ‘should we tell one of the teachers?’  
Sirius snorted.  
‘That would go over well,’ he said, ‘“Hi Professor McGonagall, just thought you should know Professor Winyard is planning on doing this werewolf ritual with an altar under that Whomping Willow in the forest. How do we know? Well because we stole his journal, that’s why.”’  
James laughed and Peter looked slightly sheepish.  
‘Not a lot we can do for now, I think,’ said James, ‘we should just keep an eye on him for now. If he looks like he’s going to do whatever he has planned, then we can go tell Dumbledore.’  
They spent the rest of the evening discussing what this plan of Winyard’s might be, though Remus was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not contribute much. Then they went upstairs to bed.  
Remus was still wide-awake hours later, long after the muttering had died down and the sound of Peter’s soft snores began filling the dormitory.   
“the blood of someone who’s already a werewolf.”  
Winyard must know, just like the rest of the teachers, that he was a werewolf. Remus remembered the funny look he had given him when he had first seen him in class. Was that why? Was he the werewolf to be used in Winyard’s scheme? Why? What was this plan? He had hoped that finding out what the altar was would set him mind at ease but he had just been left with more questions. Most important of which was; how long did they have before Winyard put his plan into action?  
*  
The next day saw the rest of the school return and, shortly after, the return to lessons. Remus couldn’t help feeling on edge in Defence Against the Dark Arts and he kept glancing up at Professor Winyard, expecting him to be watching him. But he barely ever looked up from his desk.   
Remus wondered if he was looking through that journal. They had managed to return the little leather-bound book during their first lesson after the holidays. Sirius had kept Winyard in the classroom with a question about the Jelly-Legs Jinx while James had crept up to his office, under the Invisibility Cloak again, and dropped the journal back into the top drawer of the desk. They had learned all they could from it, Remus thought, though he had copied down everything in the journal that morning, just in case.   
If he had noticed the temporary disappearance of his journal, then Winyard was giving no indication of it. His lessons went on as normal and, though Remus kept watching for any signs of suspicion, there were none.  
When he wasn’t in lessons, Remus was back in library. Now that he had a better idea of what he was looking for, he was back to scouring large and old looking books. He had still not been able to find any information on ancient altars, but he thought there might be a clue in the mention of Mesopotamia in that torn out page in the journal. From what he’d read, it did indeed seem that the first known appearances of werewolves had been in Mesopotamia, nearly four thousand years ago, though these books did not mention where they had come from. Still it was something to confirm what they’d read in the journal.  
He was now joined in these sessions by his friends, who had apparently decided to join in with his suspicions that the Altar was something to be worried about.   
It had become quite the topic of conversation, both in and out of lessons. In fact, James and Sirius were so caught up in their theories about what Winyard was trying to do, that they even forgot to pursue their vendetta against Snape.   
‘It just doesn’t make sense,’ Sirius muttered as he doodled in the corner of his workbook. They were supposed to be copying down what Professor Slughorn was telling them about Pigment Potions but he, sure that he knew it all already, was hardly paying attention.   
‘What doesn’t?’ Remus asked, furiously scribbling, trying to get down every syllable that Slughorn said.  
‘Well we’ve got to assume the Altar has something to do with werewolves, right?’ said Sirius, glancing up to make sure no one was listening. Everyone seemed to be as focussed on what Slughorn was saying as Remus was. More so in the case of Snape. He looked like he was writing twice as much as what the professor was saying.  
Remus felt a stab of mild panic in his stomach, as he did any time one of his friends brought up werewolves, which of course, happened rather often lately. He couldn’t let them know. If they even suspected…  
‘Ok,’ he muttered, not sure where he was going with this.  
‘Well why would anyone want to turn themselves into a werewolf?’ Sirius demanded, still under his breath, ‘I mean, I can understand those old Mesopotamian wizards, they didn’t know what they were doing. But we know what werewolves are now, don’t we? So why would anyone in their right mind want to be one?’  
Remus didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what he could answer. It wasn’t as if he could disagree. He knew better than most why no one would want to live as a werewolf. He glanced up at the row of desks in front of them. Had it been his imagination, or had Snape’s quill gone quiet for a moment?  
‘But that’s not what he’s after, is it?’ James, who was not bothering any more than Sirius to take notes, stretched back in his chair, ‘the journal said he was going to use a werewolf’s blood, not his own.’ James paused, looking thoughtful. ‘Unless Winyard’s a werewolf.’  
‘He’s not.’ The words had popped out of Remus’s mouth before he could stop himself. In inwardly screamed at himself. What was he doing? What had happened to being careful?  
‘How do you know?’ asked Peter. He was a hopelessly slow writer and had fallen far behind Professor Slughorn’s lecture. He had been looking gloomily down at his mostly blank parchment. Now, though, he looked up at him, curiously.   
‘Because,’ Remus hesitated, but there was nothing else he could do now. He’d have to hope he could be convincing, ‘because werewolves get sick around the full moon, don’t they? They have to recover from the transformation. If Winyard was a werewolf, then he’d have to miss lessons, and he’s never missed one.’  
There was no doubt about it. Snape’s quill had definitely paused. James was looking thoughtful.  
‘Yeah I guess that makes sense,’ he said, ‘but doesn’t tell us what werewolf blood on the altar would do, or why Winyard wants to do that.’  
The bell rang at that moment and there was a bustling noise as everyone packed away their belongings while Slughorn announced the homework and its due date.   
‘So, Charms and then off to the library?’ James asked. Sirius sighed.  
‘Suppose so,’ he said, glumly, ‘you done that homework for Keythorpe?’  
James snorted.  
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘took about ten minutes.’  
Their voices faded as they turned and left the classroom. Peter, looking worried, ran to catch up. Remus was about to do the same, but Lily and Snape got to the door before he could. Lily smiled at him as she walked past, her red hair swinging behind her. They had not had much chance to talk since she had got back from the holidays, aside from a few brief exchanges in the common room.   
Remus was about to follow her out, but he was blocked by Snape, who looked at him as if he were something disgusting, like a particularly warty toad.   
‘Know a lot about werewolves, don’t you, Lupin?’ said Snape, ‘Been doing some extra reading?’  
Clearly, he and the others had been overheard. Remus did not like the note in Snape’s voice. It was a little too knowing and there was a look of suspicion in the skinny boy’s eyes.  
‘Well, I like reading,’ Lupin said, stiffly. He could not give anything else away, especially not to Snape, ‘don’t you have another lesson to go to?’  
Snape did not move right away. He stayed where he was, still eyeing Remus with that slightly suspicious expression. Then he turned and left the classroom, following after Lily, leaving Remus feeling more than a little nervous.


	14. Conspiracy

It was amazing, Remus thought, how he could be surrounded by people and yet feel completely isolated. The crowds were cheering enthusiastically as the fourteen players swooped and dived overhead, but he could not bring himself to even pretend to be interested.  
He was glad that Gryffindor was winning this time, though.  
There had been worries in the common room in the run up to the match. James and Peter had gone to watch the game between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw before Christmas, Remus and Sirius had decided to stay inside in the warm, and had come back to report that Hufflepuff had put together a truly excellent team.  
‘If we play the way we did against Slytherin,’ James said, gloomily, ‘we’ll be absolutely destroyed.’  
Fortunately, the Gryffindor team seemed to have had the same thought. Remus had thought they had played really well in that first game, but that, apparently, just went to show how little he knew about the game. The team that was flying today was almost unrecognisable from the one he had seen in the last match. From what he had heard in the common room, Duffy had been dragging them out to almost daily practices, and it showed.   
The three chasers were flying in perfect formation, so well that Hufflepuff had been having real difficulty gaining possession of the Quaffle. The two beaters, Farrow and Cadogan, were merciless in their pursuit of the Bludgers and people to hit them at. The score currently stood at seventy points to ten. A fact that Evan Skylar, who was commentating again, seemed to be taking badly.  
‘Rakepick heading down the pitch again,’ he announced bitterly, ‘she passes Fisher, dodges a Bludger from Bones and OH COME ON!’   
Skylar’s swearing was covered by the roars from the Gryffindor crowd. Remus did not join in. He was too lost in his own thoughts. Thoughts about Snape, about Winyard, about the altar. All in all, he had a bit too much to worry about lately.  
He did not even notice when, with a scream from the crowd, Theo Congo swooped around and sped the length of the field, the Hufflepuff seeker in hot pursuit, to barrel roll through one of the goal hoops before soaring upwards, one fist held up triumphantly, a glint of gold showing through his fist.  
The final score was two hundred and thirty to twenty.  
The celebrations went on incredibly late that night in the common room. Everyone was smiling wide happy grins. Lily was so pleased with the result that she did not even leave the room in disgust when James walked into it.  
Only Remus was unable to join in with the celebrations.   
What if it's my blood? he could not help but think, over and over again. The worst part was the not knowing. He had no idea what Winyard was planning on doing with the altar, nor why he would need a werewolf’s blood. His blood maybe. That thought kept sending a cold feeling into the pit of his stomach.  
Unfortunately, aside from going in and asking Winyard what he was up to, he could see no way of finding answers. Time and time again, he had considered going to Professor Dumbledore with what he knew, with what he suspected. But he couldn’t. If he told him about Winyard and the altar, he would have to reveal how he had come by the information. Then he would lose Dumbledore’s trust, the trust that had allowed him to come to Hogwarts, to have friends for the first time in his life. How could he tell Dumbledore?  
And how could his friends be so nonchalant about it all? They knew the same things he knew, why were they not worried all the time, like he was? How could James be laughing? Teasing Lily? Drinking butterbeer, when he knew what Remus knew?  
But, of course, he knew why. None of them were werewolves. None of them were worried about being used in some ritual, for who knew what reason.   
As if to highlight this, a smiling Sirius dropped into the seat beside him, two bottles of butterbeer in his hand.  
‘Cheer up, Lupin. You look like a wet weekend.’  
He offered one of the butterbeer bottles to Remus. Remus paused, then took it and took a swig.   
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Remus, slowly, looking around to make sure no one was trying to listen in, ‘maybe we should go back to the Whomping Willow.’  
Sirius slowly lowered his bottle, fixing him with an incredulous look.  
‘I’m pretty sure there are easier ways to get yourself killed,’ he said, sarcastically, ‘jumping off the astronomy tower, maybe?’  
‘I’m being serious,’ Remus said, impatiently.  
‘So, am I,’ Sirius replied, ‘didn’t you hear what happened to the boy, Davey Gudgeon? Him and his friends were trying to touch the trunk of that one in the grounds and it nearly took his eye out. They got a week’s detention though for going near it in the first place.’  
Sirius gave Remus an appraising look.  
‘You want to see if the Altar’s there, don’t you?’  
Remus didn’t answer. He knew he didn’t have to. Sirius knew he was right and so didn’t wait for an answer.  
‘And what would you do with it if you did find it?’ Sirius demanded, ‘I’m assuming you don’t want to make yourself a werewolf?  
Remus had to fight the urge to laugh bitterly at that question before he answered.  
‘Well, we could protect it,’ he answered, ‘stop Winyard from doing whatever it is he’s going to do.’  
‘And how would we do that?’ Sirius scoffed, ‘we going to make teacups cartwheel at him until he gives up? He’s a fully trained wizard, Lupin. We’re just first years.’  
‘I know the Full Body-Bind curse,’ Remus said, defensively. This was only half true. Remus had learned the spell from reading ahead during his time in the library, though he had not yet been able to practice actually doing the spell.  
Sirius snorted, apparently unimpressed.   
‘I’m pretty sure that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,’ he emphasised the subject’s name overly clearly, ‘might be able to manage that.’  
Remus slumped down, feeling dejected. James and Peter came over to join them.  
‘What’s up with Lupin?’ asked James, munching on a pumpkin pasty  
‘He wants to go stand guard over the altar,’ Sirius answered, a smirk on his face. Remus sank lower in his chair. Surprisingly, James didn’t join in the joke with Sirius. Instead, he was looking thoughtful.   
‘Yeah, I’ve been thinking something similar myself.’  
‘You have?’ Sirius was looking incredulous again. James nodded.   
‘Well, more to make sure it's actually there. Now I know it might be, I kind of want to know, you know?’ He slumped down into the armchair next to where Remus and Sirius were sitting. ‘Shame I don’t have my Nimbus anymore. I could fly over there and have a look.’  
‘We could still fly,’ Peter suggested, ‘we could get school brooms again.’  
James shook his head.  
‘They’ve increased security since then,’ he said, ‘Farrow told me they’ve enchanted the lock on the shed so that Alohomora doesn’t work. You have to have a key.’  
Sirius puffed out his cheeks.  
‘Shame we don’t have something that could open any lock,’ he said, apparently on board now that James was talking about it, ‘my father’s mentioned things that can. Skeleton keys and magic knives and things like that.’  
‘You lot trying to get into the Quidditch shed?’   
The four of them jumped and turned to see Patricia Rakepick slide over the top of the sofa to join them.  
‘What?’ said Remus, ‘no, of course not.’  
Patricia looked at him, amused.   
‘I was only standing over there,’ she said, pointing.  
Remus gulped. How much had she heard? Apparently, nothing to be concerned about because she turned to James and said, ‘the Quidditch teams get a key to the shed, so that they can get the Quaffle and everything. I could let you in during next practice.’  
The four friends looked at each other, then back at Patricia.  
‘Why?’ Peter asked, suspiciously.   
Patricia shrugged.  
‘Why not?’ she said, ‘what’s the harm in borrowing a few brooms? Just try not to get into trouble this time, eh?’  
‘But,’ Remus spluttered, ‘but you’re a prefect, aren’t you? Aren’t you supposed to stop us doing stuff like this?’  
Patricia’s smile had slipped a little, but there was still a mischievous twinkle in her eye.  
‘To be honest, I was never one for following rules myself,’ she confided, ‘Michael was always the good boy so it made sense when he got the badge but me…well most of the teachers were as surprised as I was. Not sure what Dumbledore was playing at but there we are, eh?’  
She jumped off the sofa before any of them could reply, accepting a mug of something frothy from Michael Jones, who then glanced over at them, his eyes narrowed slightly.  
*  
It was three days before the Gryffindors had another training session. Though, Patricia told them as they walked down with her, this was more to stay in the habit. It would not be the same intensity training had had in the run up to the Hufflepuff game.  
‘At least,’ she said, looking over at Jessica Duffy, ‘I really hope not.’  
As they watched the team head into the stadium, Remus couldn’t help but glance over at the Forbidden Forest. Now that they were here, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. He was not altogether sure anymore that this was the right thing to do.  
Too late to back out now, though. James, after glancing quickly around for any sign of a teacher, slid the key into the lock on the shed and pulled open the door.   
It took longer than Remus would have liked to get away. Used to a high-quality Nimbus, James took far too long agonising over the lesser quality school brooms.  
Eventually even Sirius was tired of James’s complaining and he grabbed the closest broom to hand.  
‘Just use this one,’ he snapped, pushing it into James’s hand.  
‘A Comet One-Twenty?’ James moaned, his face twisted in contempt, ‘No way! This log can barely break fifty miles an hour!’   
Sirius rolled his eyes.  
‘You’re not trying to win a race, Potter,’ he pointed out, ‘let’s just go.’  
Grumbling slightly, James followed the other three out into the open where they mounted their brooms.’  
‘Remember,’ said Sirius, who seemed to have taken charge, ‘we need to be quick and quiet.’  
‘Small chance of being quick on this,’ James muttered. Sirius ignored him.   
‘Let’s go.’  
Together, the four of them kicked off from the ground. They had had a few more flying lessons with Madam Hooch and Remus was feeling a little more comfortable in the air than he had the last time the four of them had “borrowed” school brooms. He was still nowhere near as good as James and Peter, though.   
Despite the inferior broom, James was soon speeding away ahead of them, Peter not far behind, leaving Sirius and Remus to take up the rear.   
‘We need to stay low,’ Sirius shouted to be heard over the air rushing past them, ‘we don’t want to be seen.’   
Remus had no idea if James had heard or not but he seemed to have had the same thought for he dropped lower as they approached the forest so that he would be at canopy level. The other three imitated him.  
And then they were in the forest, swooping and swerving to avoid trees and branches. James and Peter dropped back so that the four of them were flying almost side by side.  
‘Do you remember where the Willow is?’ James asked.   
Remus felt his stomach tighten for an instant. He was not altogether sure that he did. Then the memory came back.  
‘This way,’ he said, curving around so that he was pointing towards Hagrid’s cabin. He remembered they had been a way in from there.  
‘Maybe we should slow down a bit,’ Sirius called, ‘we don’t want to hit the thing by accident.’  
Remus heard Peter squeak with fright. He knew the small boy was thinking the same as him, of what would likely happen if they blundered into the tree. They wouldn’t need to worry about Winyard or the altar then, the tree would see to that.   
Despite being the middle of the day, it was dark beneath the treetops. Remus had to look carefully where they were flying, trying to pick out anything that looked familiar.   
‘This is it,’ James suddenly said. He was whispering, apparently without realising it. ‘I recognise this place. The Willow’s just a little ahead that way.’ He pointed. Remus nodded and was about to fly in that direction, when a sudden movement from below stopped him. He looked down. He tapped Peter, who had not yet followed James. Peter jumped then glowered at him.  
‘What?’ his voice was as quiet and hoarse as James’s had been.  
Remus pointed down.  
‘There’s something down there.’   
Peter’s eyes went wide with fright.  
‘Maybe it's just an animal?’ he stammered, ‘there’s got to be loads of them in here.’  
Remus shook his head.  
‘It looked like a man.’  
James and Sirius, who had flown ahead, had realised the other two were no longer following and were now flying back. James looked at them quizzically.   
‘Remus reckons there’s something down there.’ Peter said, his voice now barely audible. Sirius rolled his eyes.  
‘Well yeah,’ he said, impatiently, ‘there’s centaurs and werewolves and all sorts in here. That’s why it's forbidden.’  
‘No, look.’ James pointed and the other three looked down. There was no denying it this time. A beam of sunlight broke through the canopy and illuminated what was unmistakably a man wearing a long, hooded cloak. He was heading straight for where James had said the Whomping Willow was.  
‘Winyard,’ Remus gasped, ‘he’s going for the altar now!’   
‘Should we go and tell someone?’ Peter asked. James shook his head.  
‘They won’t get here in time. We’ll have to do something.’  
‘Like what?’ Sirius demanded. That shut James up for a moment.  
‘Why don’t we just go see what he does?’ Remus suggested. James nodded in agreement.   
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we should do that.’   
Peter looked scared but determined. Sirius just rolled his eyes again.  
Together, the four of them glided after the hooded figure and soon came into sight of the Whomping Willow. It had grown huge, easily twice as big as the last time they had seen it. Remus wondered how big they got before they stopped growing.  
The hooded man was standing in the clearing, away from the tree. Probably, Remus thought, far enough to ensure that it didn’t come to life and attack. Remus expected Winyard to begin digging or maybe open a door at the bottom of the tree, similar to the secret tunnel that he went through every month. But he did nothing, he just stood there. As if he was waiting for something.  
‘So, this is where they hid it.’  
All four of them jumped. It was not Winyard who had spoken but a new arrival they had not seen. A man stepped out of the shadows of the forest. A rangy man with matted black hair that looked to be going grey and long, dark whiskers. He was wearing robes that had a definite ill-cared for look. They were tattered and faded. Even from this distance, Remus could not help but notice his hands. They were filthy, covered in dirt and grime and ending in long, yellowish nails.  
‘Would have thought Dumbledore would have moved it somewhere in the castle,’ he spoke with a rasping bark of a voice. Remus shivered. Despite how unpleasant he looked, how evil his voice was, hearing it filled him with the powerful urge to go to this filthy looking man, to follow him wherever he went. He had to force himself not to fly down that very instant. Looking around, it seemed he was the only one to feel anything like that. The other three were simply watching.  
‘I believe he tried to,’ the first man now spoke, ‘but it seems the altar is unmovable to those without your particular gifts. My guess is the headmaster thought it safe enough here, beneath one tree among many.’  
Remus looked at the other three. They were as confused as he was. That was not Professor Winyard’s voice.   
The man they had been following turned and pulled down his hood to reveal the face of Professor Keythorpe, the charms teacher.  
‘Wha-’ Sirius began to speak but James clapped his hand over his mouth. He looked terrified, even more so than Peter.  
‘But you found it, eh?’ said the rangy man, ‘you were able to track down the tree.’  
Keythorpe nodded.  
‘It’s taken a while, but yes. And now we are one step closer.’  
‘One step?’ the rangy man scowled, ‘we’re here, ain’t we? Why can’t we just take it now?’  
‘It's not a simple as that,’ Keythorpe said, calmly, ‘this is a Whomping Willow. If we were to get any closer than this, it would attack us. And we’ll need some backup just in case someone tries to stop us.’  
The rangy man snorted.  
‘No worries there,’ he said, ‘I’m gathering a pack. I can have them here in about a month. You just figure out how to stop this bloody tree killing us all.’  
‘And besides,’ Keythorpe went on as if his companion hadn’t spoken, ‘there is still Winyard to consider.’   
The rangy man grunted.  
‘That is a problem,’ he muttered, ‘I’ve gone against him a few times. He’s a tough bastard. No chance you can take care of him, I suppose?’   
Keythorpe laughed.  
‘You think I’m a match for Able Winyard?’ he chuckled.  
‘Maybe not awake,’ the rangy man said, ‘but maybe if you snuck in while he was sleeping…’  
‘You think I haven’t thought of that?’ Keythorpe sounded impatient now. ‘He keeps his office locked at all times now. Apparently, he misplaced something for a while and became suspicious. Even more so than usual, which I didn’t think was possible. I swear, the man could give Mad Eye Moody lessons in paranoia.’  
‘Alright, alright,’ the rangy man snarled, ‘we’ll just have to do it quick, before he can interfere. I’ll get my pack up here, you figure out this tree.’  
Keythorpe nodded.  
‘I’ll contact you in the normal way when I have the answer,’ he said, ‘it shouldn’t take too long.’   
And with that, Keythorpe turned and walked back into the gloom of the forest. The rangy man also turned away, but paused for a moment. If he didn’t know better, Remus could have sworn he was scenting the air, like a dog. Then he was gone, vanishing into the forest just as Keythorpe had.   
‘Come on,’ Remus heard James say, his voice barely more than a whisper of a whisper.  
‘But,’ said Remus, ‘what about the altar?’  
‘Forget it for now,’ said James. Remus turned to argue, but then saw the look in James’s eye. Remus did not think he had ever seen him looking so serious. Sirius and Peter too looked surprised.  
‘Alright,’ he said.   
They flew back in silence. Sirius, Remus and Peter cast glances at James as they wound their way around the trees.   
Finally, they reached the edge of the forest and descended to the ground. The Quidditch pitch could be seen close by.  
‘Potter,’ Sirius began, ‘who was that?’  
James looked at Sirius, apparently surprised.  
‘I thought you knew,’ he said, ‘his picture’s been in the Prophet a few times.’  
Sirius shrugged.  
‘I don’t really read the news,’ he said. James made an impatient noise before turning to the other two.  
‘You know who he is, right?’  
Peter and Remus looked at each other and both shook their heads. Remus was feeling strange. He had had a feeling that he did know the rangy man, but he was sure they had never met. How would he have been able to forget seeing someone like that?  
‘That was Fenrir Greyback!’ James exclaimed.  
It was as if the blood in Remus’s veins had turned to ice. That had been him. The werewolf who had turned him. The one Dumbledore had spoken to his parents about. Suddenly the things he had said took on a new, horrible meaning.   
A pack, he had said, Greyback was going to bring a pack into the forest to take the altar. A pack of werewolves? More like him. Was Greyback going to use his blood on the altar? Why?  
‘That was Greyback?’ Sirius sounded shocked, ‘I’ve heard my parents talking about him.’  
‘My mum’s told me about him,’ Peter piped in, ‘she said he likes attacking kids. She used to tell me if I didn’t do as I was told, then he’d come to get me. I didn’t think he was real until I saw him in the Daily Prophet.’  
The four of them fell silent. Remus wondered if the other three were also wondering why Professor Keythorpe would be meeting with someone like Greyback.   
‘We have to tell someone about this,’ Peter said, ‘one of the teachers.’  
‘But would any of them listen to us?’ asked Sirius, ‘I’m not sure I’d believe all of this if I hadn’t seen it.’  
‘Winyard will,’ Remus said, ‘you heard what they said. He’s trying to stop them. If we tell him about this, then he can put a stop to it.’  
James smiled.  
‘Right,’ he said, realisation in his voice, ‘that must have been what his notes meant. He wrote “plan to use werewolf blood” but he didn’t mean that was his plan, he meant that was the plan he was trying to stop.’  
‘Yeah,’ said Peter, excitedly, ‘so if we tell him what we saw, he’ll know what to do next.’  
‘Right,’ said Sirius, sounding purposeful, ‘let’s get back to the castle and…’  
‘Well, well, well, what have I caught myself here?’  
Remus felt his stomach drop, if possible, even further. A lantern flared into life, throwing into a nightmarish light the cruel face of Filch. The caretaker smiled a nasty smile and picked up a thin branch from the ground.  
‘Now,’ he said, flexing the branch between his hands, ‘before I beat the lot of you all the way back to the school, why don’t you tell me what you think you’re doing out here. The forest is out of bounds, you know that. And what’s this?’ He plucked Peter’s broom from his unresisting fingers. ‘Theft of school property, eh? Ooh I hope, for your sakes, that you have a good explanation.’  
He looked far too excited for Remus to believe what he was saying. No doubt he was counting the moments before he could get them up in front of Dumbledore. It was no secret that the caretaker lived for the moments he could give out punishments.   
‘We have to see Professor Winyard,’ James said, boldly, ‘it's urgent.’  
Filch snorted, quite clearly unconvinced.  
‘Professor Winyard, is it?’ he sneered, ‘and what have you got to tell him that’s so urgent?’  
The four boys looked at each other. Remus could tell that none of them were particularly enthusiastic about telling Filch anything, especially something that might be so important. Yet, at the same time, it might be very important. Possibly more than worth getting sneered at.  
Remus took a deep breath.  
‘We just saw Professor Keythorpe in the forest,’ he began, ‘over by the Whomping Willow. We thought he might be…’ he paused. That he might be Professor Winyard, that he might be trying to take the Altar of the Moon to use it for…something we don’t know yet. These possible sentences and more rushed through Remus’s head, but he did not want to say anything.   
James quickly took up the story.  
‘…be up to something, so we followed him. And he was. He was meeting Fenrir Greyback, that werewolf. We think he’s going to try and steal something. He said he’s coming back in a month with a pack of other werewolves. We have to tell Professor Winyard! He’s been trying to protect this thing they’re after.’  
As James finished, Remus looked up into Filch’s face. To his surprise, there was no shock of disbelief there. There was not even the usual expression of anger or contempt. Filch’s face was oddly blank. Then, it shifted. The nose narrowed and lengthened, the skin became less grey but more weathered, Filch’s hair receded, then became thicker. Suddenly that familiar smell was in his nostrils again, the smell he smelled every time he was in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The smell of rank, wet fur. The smell of an enemy. The smell, Remus realised, of someone who had made a career out of fighting werewolves.  
In a moment, Filch had vanished and Professor Winyard himself stood before them.  
‘Well now,’ he said, looking rather amused at the looks on their faces, ‘I’d say we have quite a bit to talk about.’


	15. Counterstroke

Things were either very good or very bad, Remus thought to himself as he, James, Sirius and Peter followed Professor Winyard through the grounds and into the castle. Up the steps of the entrance hall and all the way to his office.   
Professor Winyard opened the door and waved them in ahead of him. Remus went in first, trying to look as though he had never set foot in the room before. There was something that had not been there the last time, a large tank in which was sat a small, goblin-like creature with green skin and a rather tattered looking red hat pulled down low on its head. Remus recognised it from his reading as a Red Cap, no doubt Winyard had brought in the creature for a practical demonstration for one of his classes.  
The four of them turned as they heard the click of the office door locking. Remus held his breath.  
‘So,’ Professor Winyard began, slowly, ‘it seems you boys have been sticking your noses in matters you should be leaving alone.’   
Remus glanced at his friends. It did not look like any of them knew how to respond to this. Even James seemed momentarily tongue tied.  
‘We didn’t mean to find out about the Altar,’ said Remus, ‘it was sort of an accident.’  
‘An accident?’ said Winyard, looking unconvinced, ‘The Altar is one of the best kept secrets of Hogwarts. Dumbledore himself only found out about it last year which is why, as you’ve no doubt guessed, he had that Whomping Willow planted over it.’  
‘And he hired you to protect it, didn’t he?’ Sirius cut in. Professor Winyard raised an eyebrow at him.  
‘What gives you that idea?’  
‘Greyback,’ James spoke up, ‘he said he’s faced you before. Dumbledore must have known Greyback was looking for it, so he hired you because you know how to fight him.’  
Professor Winyard was regarding the four of them through slightly narrowed eyes. Remus had the uncomfortable feeling that they were being appraised.  
‘You know, if it weren’t for the fact you were eleven, I might think you were spies,’ he finally said, darkly, ‘but I suppose it is possible that you’re just too clever for your own good.’ He fixed them with that appraising look again. ‘I suppose you four are the reason my journal disappeared? Yes, I thought so. I suppose I should be glad that it was you and not Keythorpe, or one of his cronies.’  
‘Did you know Keythorpe was looking for the Altar?’ Sirius asked.  
‘Dumbledore knew that somebody at Hogwarts was,’ Winyard answered, ‘I had my suspicions when I first arrived, though I had suspicions about most of the staff. Truth be told, I thought Hagrid was the most likely.’  
‘Hagrid?’ Remus exclaimed.  
Winyard shrugged.  
‘He lives close to the forest, he’s well known to have a fascination with dangerous creatures not to mention…’ he paused, as if not sure he should have spoken that last part. ‘Well, he has something of a history with dangerous creatures.’  
Remus remembered the story his father had told him. Winyard was from the Ministry. It was hardly surprising that he would have heard and believe the account that Hagrid had accidentally let a dangerous creature loose in the castle, which had then killed a girl.  
‘But,’ Winyard went on, ‘I was wrong. It was a good thing you were there to overhear all this. Now I can move to stop them.’  
‘So,’ Peter began, hesitantly, it did not seem like they were in trouble. Winyard was not shouting at any rate, ‘what does Keythorpe want with Altar?’  
‘Yeah,’ said James, ‘why does he want to use werewolf blood? What’s that going to do?’  
Professor Winyard raised an eyebrow.  
‘Just because you stumbled into this business, doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you everything. You’ve done your bit, more than you should but I’ll let that slide. As I said, it is useful information you’ve given me. But you are first years. This is out of your league by a long way. I’ll take things from here.’  
‘But,’ James spluttered, indignantly, ‘but we…you can’t.’  
‘I think you’ll find I can,’ Winyard’s face had grown stern, ‘now you’re to return those brooms to the Quidditch shed and then get back to your dormitories. And that’s to be the end of this business for you four. If I hear you’ve been poking your noses in then there will be punishments. Now go.’  
Winyard’s tone indicated there would be no further discussion of debate on the matter. James and Sirius were looking mutinous but cowed. Peter just looked relieved. Remus, for his part, felt slightly disappointed. He had worked so hard to find out about the Altar and what might be going on. To have come this far and be forbidden from going further was more than a little galling. But, on the other hand, Winyard was right. They were only first years. What would they be able to do against someone like Greyback?  
The four of them turned and were about to leave when Professor Winyard spoke again.  
‘Lupin, could you hold on a moment?’  
Remus turned back. Winyard was looking at him quite intently. He turned back to his friends. James and Peter were looking surprised while Sirius was looking at Winyard suspiciously.  
‘It's fine,’ Remus assured them, ‘I’ll meet you outside.’  
All three of them nodded, if a little reluctantly, and trooped out of the office, closing the door behind them.  
‘I wanted to have a quick word in private,’ Winyard explained, ‘given your, well, intimate connection to this business.’ Remus caught another whiff of that rank smell but did not answer. ‘no doubt you’ve been worried that it might be your blood that was going to be used in this ritual Keythorpe has planned?’  
There was little point in denying it. Remus nodded.  
‘But it's Greyback, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘He’s going to use his blood for the ritual?’  
‘That does indeed seem to be the case,’ Winyard answered, ‘which is why I wanted to talk to you. You’ll no doubt know from my journal,’ he paused, looking mildly annoyed, as if unable to believe that they had been able to steal his journal from his office, ‘that when a human uses the ritual of the Altar, they are turned into a werewolf.’  
Remus nodded.  
‘So, what happens when a werewolf does it?’  
With a sigh, Winyard sat down behind his desk.  
‘That’s the problem,’ he said, ‘nobody knows. To my knowledge, it has never been done. When those old Mesopotamian wizards realised what they’d done, they found a place as far away as they could find and buried it deep so it could never be used again. We don’t know what Keythorpe or Greyback are trying to achieve.’ Remus noticed then that the professor’s hands were clenched on the desk. ‘But there can be no doubt that it will do something. I can’t believe they’d go to all this trouble and effort if they were not sure they would accomplish something.’   
He looked up at Remus, and seemed to realise what he was saying because the troubled, almost angry, expression he had been wearing faded into one more that seemed more relaxed and in control.  
‘I’m not saying this to alarm you,’ he said, ‘just to put you on your guard. Obviously, we will do everything we can to make sure that they fail but just to be on the safe side, stay on the alert. There’s no knowing what effect the Altar will have on nearby werewolves if it is activated by werewolf blood. Do you understand?’   
Remus gulped. He certainly felt alarmed, no matter what Winyard might have said. Despite this, he was able to give a quick nod. This seemed good enough for Winyard who gestured at him to go. Remus turned and made for the door.  
‘Oh, one more thing, Lupin.’  
The breath caught in Remus’s throat as he turned around. What could it be this time?  
Winyard had a small smile on his face now.  
‘Try and keep those friends of yours out of trouble, won’t you?’  
*  
‘You can’t be serious?’  
They were back in the common room now, sitting in their usual spot by the fire. They were being more or less left to themselves, everyone else in the common room being occupied with the large pile of homework all the students had been given in the runup to the Easter holidays. Remus was poring over a particularly tricky essay for Professor Sprout on the uses of the Iridescent Illicium.  
‘I am,’ he said, without looking up from his book. There had to be a use other than as night lights. ‘I think we should do what Winyard said and leave the Altar alone.’  
‘But you’re the one who wouldn’t shut up about it,’ James protested, ‘after all that, you’re gonna just let it go?’  
This got Remus to look up from his book.  
‘You were the one who told me I should shut up about it,’ he pointed out, ‘you and Black. We know what the Altar is now.’  
‘Yeah, and that some nutter is going to use it for God knows what,’ said James, ‘how can you be fine with Winyard telling us to but out?’  
‘Well what would you rather do?’ Remus asked him, ‘go and stand guard over the Altar and fight Greyback when he turns up?’  
‘Maybe I do.’ said James. They glared at each other, though Remus could see even James knew how stupid that sounded.  
‘Maybe Lupin’s right,’ said Peter, sounding nervous, ‘Winyard knows about Keythorpe and Greyback now. Him and Dumbledore will do something.’   
They all four of them looked at each other. Remus knew they were all thinking the same thing. If Dumbledore and Winyard had a plan to take down Keythorpe, they were taking their time going about it. They had almost decided against going to Charms in the week following their talk with Winyard, feeling sure that that Dumbledore would have acted and had the Charms teacher quietly removed from the school.   
It had come as a real shock when they had walked into the classroom to find Keythorpe waiting for them all, greeting them all warmly, as he did every lesson.  
The shock had turned to incredulity as the days and weeks had gone by and it appeared that no arrest was forthcoming.  
‘Maybe they’re going to try and catch them in the act or something,’ Sirius suggested as they walked away from Charms class one Thursday, ‘or maybe it's taking time to get all the evidence they need together.’  
‘It's nothing to do with us,’ Remus said, tiredly. He’d said this so often over the past few weeks, he was growing quite tired of hearing himself say it. In truth he was reminding himself as much as his friends. If he were to be honest with himself, he was as curious as the others to find out what Keythorpe and Greyback were planning to do with the Altar. But Winyard had said to leave it to him and Dumbledore, so that’s what he was going to do.  
James had a very different mindset. He ignored what Remus said, as he did every time he said it, and answered Sirius  
‘But why do they need anything else?’ he asked, looking back over his shoulder towards the classroom, as if expecting Professor Keythorpe to come after them at any moment. ‘we saw him meeting Greyback in the forest, right? That’s got to be enough to arrest him right there.’  
‘It's nothing to do with us,’ Remus repeated himself and was ignored again.   
‘Maybe there’s something else we don’t know about?’ Sirius theorised, ‘maybe Greyback is working for someone else and they want to catch them?’  
Remus stopped listening. There was no point in trying to dissuade the two of them so he might as well save his breath. Maybe they would get bored eventually. He hoped they would. The more they talked, the more he wanted to join in.   
But he knew he couldn’t. He was going to do as he was told. He had enough to think about, anyway. The full moon was fast approaching and Remus was already starting to feel his body preparing for the transformation which was seriously affecting his ability to cope with the increased amount of homework the teachers were dropping on them in preparation for the end of year exams.  
It was almost a relief when the eve of the month’s full moon came. It would be a few days recovering in the hospital wing, but at least after that he could go back to his school work without the cramping and the nausea.   
‘You going to see your mum again?’ Peter asked that afternoon, as he watched Remus pack the suitcase that he always took with him when he went to the shack in Hogsmeade. He would leave it in the tunnel just outside.  
‘Yeah,’ said Remus, weakly. He hated lying to his friends. And, what was more, he knew he would have to come up with a different one soon. It would be hard for them to believe that Remus’s mother was this sick for this long. He would try asking Dumbledore for some advice.  
‘You should have them look at you while you’re there,’ said James, who was testing Sirius on incantations, ‘you’ve not been looking so great.’  
Remus smiled a small smile but didn’t answer. He supposed the stress of all the homework and the exams was making his usual pre-full moon sickness all the more noticeable.   
As usual, he met Madam Pomfrey at the Whomping Willow. She, without any preamble, raised her wand and caused a long stick to rise and prod the knot on the trunk of the willow which froze it.   
Remus wondered if the Willow over the Altar worked the same way. It made sense for the same kinds of magical trees to work the same way. Remus had considered asking Professor Sprout, but had come to the conclusion it would be a very odd question to ask out of the blue. Besides, Dumbledore surely knew about it, and so then must Winyard. But would Keythorpe be able to find out? All it would take was a casual question to Professor Sprout or Madam Pomfrey.  
A sudden, unpleasantly familiar smell filled Remus’s nostrils. He had to go to it, had to follow. He had only smelled it once before, in the Forbidden Forest, when he had seen Greyback.  
He looked around, wildly. But there was no one else there. He was imagining it. Thinking of the Whomping Willow and the Altar had just made him think about the werewolf, that was all. He pushed it from his mind. He shouldn’t have been thinking of those things anyway. Winyard had told them to leave it to him and Dumbledore. That’s what he had to do. He just had to get through that night, get back to the castle and concentrate on his homework. That was it.  
He crawled his way through the last bit of the tunnel, leaving his bag in the entrance and pulling a heavy bookcase across to cover it. Then he walked over to the window. All the doors and windows of the shack were boarded up but he had found a small gap between two of the boards, through which he could see outside. It was pitch dark. Remus looked up. It would not be long now.  
The next thing he knew, he was waking up, naked, exhausted and covered in bruises, in the wreckage of, Remus thought, a rather nice wardrobe. Remus sat up, wincing as his stomach cramped and his muscles spasmed. It looked as if he had made his way upstairs during the night. He tried to recall anything of what might have happened but all he could remember was the usual white-hot pain coursing through his body, his bones and his muscles on fire.  
He pulled himself to his feet, splinters tumbling from his body. And then he froze.   
He was not alone.   
He heard heavy footsteps in the hallway. With an unpleasant squeak of a half ripped off hinge, the door swung open.   
The smell filled the room first. Remus’s nose was still extra sensitive from the transformation and the raw, animal stink nearly sent him reeling. Dirt, sweat and, unmistakably, the iron tang of fresh blood.  
He knew who it was before he set foot in the room.  
Greyback came into view, his tattered robes hanging loose around his grubby clothes, his dark hair a tangled mess, a red stain around his mouth. He smiled. Remus was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was naked.  
‘And here you are,’ said Greyback. His rasping voice sounded almost gentle. ‘I was starting to worry I’d never find you.’ He was holding a towel in his dirty hand but did not offer it to Remus. He seemed to be taking Remus in, like a connoisseur admiring a fine work of art. Remus shuddered and covered himself with his hands. Greyback snorted and threw the towel to him. Remus caught it and hastily wrapped it around himself.  
‘What do you mean?’ he asked. Greyback let out a bark of laughter.  
‘I took a lot of trouble to find you, all those years ago,’ he growled, ‘I was disappointed when you didn’t come to me, like the others. Didn’t think your father would be too keen on raising a werewolf, but I suppose Lyall could always surprise me.’ Remus was so focussed on keeping as much space between him and Greyback he was only half listening. He had guessed his father had a history with Greyback so nothing he said was coming as a particular shock. ‘Then I smelled you the other day in the forest,’ Greyback went on, ‘a werewolf can always smell when one of his litter are near, and I knew I’d finally found you.’  
Greyback hunkered down on his haunches, never taking his eyes off Remus. He looked, strangely, happy. Like a father finding a long-lost son. Remus did not like that. He glanced over at the door.  
‘How did you get in?’ Remus asked.   
Greyback gestured over his shoulder.  
‘Same way you did,’ he said, ‘I crept into the grounds through the forest last night and I saw you come down from the school. I saw that nurse freezing the Whomping Willow. That was worth the trip by itself, Keythorpe still hasn’t found the answer, the useless idiot. So, this morning, after I’d had my fill in the forest, I did the same thing and came through the passage.’ He smirked at Remus. ‘Did you think I climbed down the chimney?’  
‘This shack’s supposed to be all locked up,’ Remus answered, ‘so I can’t get out.’  
Greyback snorted in disgust at that.  
‘So, you can’t get out,’ he growled, ‘oh, they’ve done a good job on you. Got you convinced you’re something evil? That something’s wrong with you?’  
Remus looked incredulously at Greyback, at the blood around his mouth.  
‘Something is wrong with me,’ he said, ‘werewolves attack people.’  
‘We hunt,’ Greyback retorted, ‘we hunt, just like any predator. The wolf isn’t evil just for killing a deer. When a fox eats the chicken, you don’t call the fox a disease, do you? We just do what is natural. The food chain and all that. We’re just higher up the chain than humans, and they don’t like that.’  
Remus didn’t answer. He couldn’t. There was a mad glint in Greyback’s eyes. If Remus had been scared before, he was coming close to being terrified.  
‘I don’t blame you, though,’ said Greyback, ‘you were raised wrong. Around wizards, people who hate and fear us. If I’d had my way, you’d have been raised with your own kind. There’s still a place for you there. And you’d pick a good time.’  
Greyback grinned, ferociously.  
‘You mean the Altar?’ Remus couldn’t help but ask. Greyback chuckled, throatily.  
‘You’re smart,’ he said, ‘I like that. Yes, boy, the Altar. It is the first step towards a new life for all werewolf kind. No more hiding in the shadows. No more suffering at the hands of our inferiors. We’ve been promised a place of honour in the new world order.’  
That last part did confuse Remus.  
‘New world order?’ he asked. Greyback grinned.  
‘The Dark Lord is rising, Lad,’ he said, and there was a note of grim satisfaction in his voice, ‘he is ready to make his first real strike and the Altar is a key part of that. I suppose you know what the Altar does?’  
Remus nodded, hardly breathing.   
‘If a human puts his blood on it, he becomes a werewolf,’ he said. Greyback nodded.  
‘Yes, indeed,’ he said, ‘but the Dark Lord has found another use for the Altar. He knows many things. He has told me that if the Altar is filled with the blood of a werewolf, then the Altar releases a wave of magical energy, carrying with it the gift of the werewolf.’  
Remus did not trust himself to speak. Was Greyback saying what he thought he was saying?  
‘Yes,’ Greyback crowed, reading the expression on Remus’s face, ‘in one moment, all those touched by the Altar’s power become werewolves themselves. Imagine that. What would happen if this ritual were performed in the middle of Diagon Alley? Or the Ministry? Or maybe Hogsmeade? In a moment, we make dozens, if not hundreds of others like us. Now bound to our cause. And if we were to do it during the full moon. We have an army of werewolves suddenly erupting in the middle of a town, attacking every human in sight.’  
Remus was staring, open mouthed, at Greyback. What he was hearing horrified him. That was what Keythorpe was helping Greyback to accomplish? And who was this Dark Lord he was talking about?  
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Remus’s voice sounded strangled. Greyback shrugged.  
‘You’re one of us,’ he said, as though that was obvious, ‘more than that, boy, you’re one of mine. You’ll get your share of what we take, don’t worry. Besides, I’m guessing none of your little friends know what you really are?’ Remus could not deny it. Greyback chuckled. ‘Thought not,’ he said, ‘well, don’t worry. They will soon enough. They might even join us. Would you like that?’  
Remus wanted to scream. No, no he wouldn’t. James, Sirius, Peter, Lily, all the rest, forced to become like he was, like Greyback was? Who would wish that on anybody? He would not even wish it on Snape.  
‘But,’ Remus was finally able to speak, ‘but why is Keythorpe helping you?’   
Greyback barked with laughter.  
‘Because he’s an idiot, of course,’ he said, ‘I met him, oh, many years ago. He told me how he feels so sorry for the werewolves, how it’s just dreadful that they’re treated so badly by the wizards.’ Greyback spat in contempt. ‘When I found out about the Altar, that it was in Hogwarts, I got in touch with him. He thinks the Altar will undo the curse, that using it will allow werewolves to become human again and live ordinary lives. And he does so want to help our poor brethren, thinks no cost is too high if it will save so many.’ He spat again.   
Remus’s mind was racing. Keythorpe wasn’t trying to help the werewolves after all…well, he was but he thought all they were after was a cure. He had no idea what they were really trying to do.   
Greyback stood up, yawning so widely that Remus heard his jaw click.  
‘It's not like you could do anything to stop us anyway,’ he said, in an off-hand way, ‘we’ll be making a move soon and even Winyard won’t be able to stop us. By the time him and Dumbledore know what’s going on, it’ll be too late. The Dark Lord has planned it all out. He knows what he’s doing.’ He looked own at Remus. ‘But why would you want to stop us, anyway? What we’re gonna do will make all our lives better. You won’t have to hide anymore. You’ll be free.’  
Remus opened his mouth but found he had no answer. Greyback snorted, turned on his heel and left Remus alone in the room, dust falling lightly from the ceiling.


	16. Into the Woods

Remus lay quite still, staring straight upwards at the white ceiling of the Hospital Wing. It had been two days since he had been brought back up to the castle by Madam Pomfrey. He was due for release that afternoon. And in all that time he had not stopped thinking about everything that Greyback had told him once.  
The truth about the Altar of the Moon, what Greyback was going to do with it, was so horrible that even asleep, the idea had haunted Remus. He had had numerous, vivid nightmares of werewolves, scores of them, erupting as if from nowhere into crowded streets, attacking people left and right. In his mind’s eye, Remus saw the towns and villages where he had lived over the years with his parents, the children he had known. His friends at Hogwarts. All lost under the shadow of this attack. At best, cursed like him, made to suffer the same way he did. At worst, well, he did not want to think about that too much.  
And all at the order of this Dark Lord, whoever that was. The only Dark Lord Remus knew of was Grindelwald, and he’d been defeated years ago. Had he escaped from prison? Or was this some new Dark Lord?  
What made things worse was not knowing when this was all going to happen. Greyback had told Keythorpe that he’d have more werewolves ready inside of a month, but that was hardly enough information to go on. Maybe that was what Winyard had been trying to find out, maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to arrest Keythorpe yet.  
Of course, he had not been able to find out what Winyard knew, nor tell him anything about what Greyback had told him. When they had gotten back to the castle, Remus had asked Madam Pomfrey to tell Professor Winyard that he needed to see him, but the matron had refused.  
‘You need rest, Lupin,’ she had said, gently but firm, ‘whatever you have to tell Professor Winyard, I’m sure it can wait a couple of days.’  
But could it wait? Remus was not so sure. Any day now, Greyback could be leading his werewolves to where the Altar lay, the defence given to it by the Whomping Willow now gone. He could not even tell his friends so they could carry a message.   
Remus was kept in a small, separate ward from the rest of the hospital wing, to ensure none of the other students in there knew he was there. He was, after all, supposed to be away, visiting his sick mother. He could not very well ask for James, Sirius or Peter to come visit him.  
So, he lay, alone in his bed, quietly fuming and panicking about what might happen and his lack of ability to do anything about it.  
The second Madam Pomfrey told him he was free to go, he was away, tearing off through the castle, straight for Professor Winyard’s office. He hammered on the door. No answer. He knocked again, trying to sound more polite this time. Still no answer. Perhaps he was down in the Great Hall.   
There was a large grandfather clock a little way down the corridor. It read half past six. Lessons would have ended ages ago, but dinner was not served for another half an hour. And Winyard was always in his office when not in class, and often during meals.  
‘What are you doing here?’ A familiar, snide voice spun Remus around. Snape was walking up the corridor, following behind Lily, who shot Snape a sharp look before smiling at him.  
‘Welcome back,’ she said, warmly, ‘how’s your mum?’  
For a moment, Remus quite forgot about his cover story, he’d been so determined to talk to Winyard, so he was momentarily at a loss over what Lily was talking about. Then his brain began working again.  
‘Oh, she’s doing alright, thanks,’ he said, ‘the healers think she’ll be up and about soon.’  
‘Well that’s good news,’ Snape said, his tone insincere, ‘I’m curious, which ward is she in?’  
Snape had a look in his eye, as if he was trying to sniff out a lie. Remus suddenly felt uncomfortable. He’d never been much good at inventing things on the spot.  
‘She’s not at St. Mungo’s,’ he said, cautiously, ‘she’s not that sick. She’s at home, the healers come and check on her every now and again.’ He had no idea if healers did anything of the sort, but it was the only thing he could think of. He had a feeling if he mentioned a ward, Snape would know it for a lie.  
Apparently, the story was enough because though the suspicious look never left Snape’s eye, he did not call out the lie. Lily was looking at Snape as if mystified but then turned to speak to Remus again.  
‘But why are you up here?’ she asked, ‘Winyard isn’t here. He’s gone off somewhere.’   
Disbelief and horror flooded Remus’s mind.  
‘Gone off?’ he blurted, ‘where’s he gone?’  
Lily shrugged.  
‘No idea,’ she said, ‘but he hasn’t been in classes all week. It's quite inconsiderate really, with our exams coming up soon. Dumbledore said we’ll have a substitute teacher until he gets back but even so…’  
Remus had stopped listening. His mind was racing. Winyard was gone. There was only one other person he could tell.   
He made some excuse about wanting to catch up on some homework he’d missed before making his goodbye to Lily and Snape and running off towards Dumbledore’s office.   
He’d reached the main staircase before he realised, he had no idea where Dumbledore’s office was. So instead, he span about and ran in the direction of Professor McGonagall’s room.   
He slid to a halt and took a breath to calm himself. Professor McGonagall was not likely to help if he burst in, shouting. He knocked on the door, heard McGonagall’s voice call “come in”, and so he pushed the door open.   
Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk, marking what appeared to be practice exam papers. She looked up.  
‘Ah, Lupin. Welcome back. Glad to see you looking well. What can I help you with?’  
‘Professor,’ Remus began, being sure to keep the excitement and panic out of his voice, ‘I need to see Professor Dumbledore.’  
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. She seemed to be thinking. Then she stood up.  
‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said, tartly, addressing someone behind Remus. Remus turned around to see James and Sirius sat at desks on either end of the room, a long roll of parchment in front of each of them, quills in hand. Clearly here, serving detention. They must have looked up when Remus had entered, for they were both looking right at him. James dropped him a wink and Sirius grinned. Remus smiled back. Professor McGonagall sniffed and guided Remus out of the room. She closed the door, looked around to make sure they were alone and looked down at him, her usually stern eyes now full of concern.  
‘Is this something about your…condition?’ she asked, ‘did something happen?’  
‘Yes,’ Remus said, quickly. It seemed the best way to get to Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall seemed to consider again before nodding.  
‘Alright, Lupin,’ she said, ‘if you’ll follow me.’  
After leaning back into her office to tell James and Sirius to stay put until she returned, Professor McGonagall led Remus around a corner, up a set of steps and along another corridor. Rounding a bend, they came into sight of a large and very ugly stone gargoyle.  
‘Penny Chew,’ said Professor McGonagall. This was apparently the password for the gargoyle suddenly sprang to life and hopped out of the way as the wall behind it split in two.  
‘The headmaster has a fondness for Muggle sweets,’ Professor McGonagall explained as they walked through the wall and onto a spiral staircase that moved, by itself, smoothly upwards. They rose upwards in circles, around and around, until they arrived at a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffon. Professor McGonagall rapped the knocker twice.  
‘Enter,’ Remus heard Dumbledore’s voice from within. Professor McGonagall pushed open the door.  
Dumbledore’s office was a large, circular room, filled with some of the strangest and most interesting objects Remus had ever seen. Small, spindly silver instruments stood on tables and on cabinets, clicking, whirring or emitting small puffs of smoke. Remus could only begin to guess what half of them did. The walls were covered in portraits, scores of them, depicting old men and woman sitting in elegant chairs or standing in scenic locations, though all of them appeared to be sleeping.  
Dumbledore himself was stood at one end of the room beside a golden perch, on which stood a magnificent red and gold bird. The bird opened its beak and let out a soft chirruping noise. Dumbledore turned to look at them.  
‘Minerva,’ he said, smiling, ‘and Master Lupin. To what do I owe the pleasure?’  
‘Lupin apparently needs to talk to you about his…well his condition, Headmaster.’  
Dumbledore regarded Professor McGonagall, his bright blue eyes appearing to flash behind his spectacles.  
‘His condition,’ he echoed, ‘I see. Well, Remus, let’s have a chat. Thank you, Minerva. I’ll talk to you later.’  
Remus got the impression that Dumbledore was displeased with Professor McGonagall for some reason but didn’t want to waste time asking about it. As the office door closed behind her, Remus got straight to the point.  
‘Professor,’ he began, ‘Fenrir Greyback was waiting when I woke up after my transformation.’  
Dumbledore had been looking at Remus with a polite interest, as any teacher might when a student came to them with a problem. At the mention of Greyback, however, his eyes widened. He crossed the room and sat behind his desk, gesturing for Remus to sit opposite him.  
‘Are you alright?’ he asked as Remus sat down, ‘he didn’t hurt you?’  
‘No,’ Remus said quickly. His well-being was the least of his concerns in that moment. ‘No, he just talked to me.’ Dumbledore seemed to relax, if only slightly, then fixed Remus with his piercing blue stare.  
‘What did he say?’  
‘He told me about the Altar of the Moon,’ Remus paused then, worried about what Dumbledore’s reaction might be. But Dumbledore waved his hand indifferently.  
‘Professor Winyard has been keeping me up to date with everything to do with the altar, including the discoveries made by you and your friends,’ he said, a twitch in the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile. ‘I can hardly be angry at you for stumbling across things. It just means those things should have been better hidden, and so my fault. Please, continue.’  
‘Well he told me what he’s going to do,’ Remus hurried on, ‘someone called the Dark Lord has told him that using werewolf blood in the ritual will make every human around the altar turn into a werewolf and that’s why he wants to take it. And he knows, Professor, he knows how to get past the Whomping Willow, because he watched me and Madam Pomfrey the other night and he told me that Professor Keythorpe is helping him because he feels sorry for the werewolves, but he doesn’t really know what they’re going to do and we have to stop him, Professor, because Greyback’s been bringing werewolves into the forest to help him take the altar.’  
Dumbledore held up a hand, clearly indicating Remus to be quiet. Remus clamped his mouth shut, and it was just as well. Saying it all aloud was bringing him close to panic.  
Dumbledore rose from his chair and began pacing up and down the office. Remus watched him. As he did so his eyes caught the portraits hanging behind his desk and he saw that many of them were no longer sleeping.  
‘This is deeply troubling news,’ said Dumbledore, a deep frown on his face, ‘I never thought this would be his opening move. I had hoped even he would not be so savage.’  
Remus assumed he was talking about Greyback but that was not the most important thing right now. Dumbledore had mentioned Winyard, which had reminded him of something else he wanted to know.  
‘Where is Professor Winyard, Sir?’ he asked, ‘I went to his office when I got out the hospital wing but he wasn’t there.’   
Dumbledore sighed.  
‘He was called away on urgent business for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. More riots have been breaking out across London, not just in Diagon Alley. Almost the whole Ministry has been called in to help deal with it. I tried to convince him to stay but I suppose the Ministry do need all the help they can get.’  
Remus gulped. Winyard had been one of the main defences for the altar, from what Greyback said. Still, at least they still had Dumbledore, the man who had beaten Grindelwald, the most powerful wizard of their time. He would undoubtedly have a plan.  
‘What are we going to do, sir?  
Dumbledore stopped his pacing and turned to regard him.  
‘“We” aren’t doing anything,’ he said, his voice kind but still very firm, ‘this will be a matter for myself and the teachers. I thank you for coming to me with this. I will never pretend to know something that I do not. But this will need to be handled by witches and wizards much more powerful than yourself. I will thank you to leave this to me, Remus.’  
Remus did not meet Dumbledore’s eye. The headmaster was quite right, of course. Still, it bothered him to keep hearing that same thing again. “Don’t worry yourself about it, let the adults handle things from here”. Winyard had said much the same thing.   
Knowing this for a dismissal, Remus turned to leave. But he paused. There was one more thing he had to ask.  
‘Why hasn’t Professor Keythorpe been arrested, Sir?’  
He felt differently about the man now, knowing that he trying to help the werewolves get a cure. But the fact was he was still trying to steal the altar.  
Dumbledore looked up at him and frowned, not as if he were annoyed but as if wondering how to explain something very complicated.  
‘Professor Keythorpe comes from a very old, very well-connected family, Remus,’ he said, finally, ‘and, in my experience with the Wizengamot, a man like that must be handled very carefully within the law. There can be no room for even the slightest error. And building a case like that takes time. A lot more time than I would like.’  
*  
Remus felt the deep frown on his face as he walked away from Dumbledore’s office. He knew he would not be able to do anything to help, and that was the worst part. He wanted to help. He wanted to stop Greyback’s plan. But, how could he?  
A sudden movement made him stop and shrink into the shadows. He had been about to come out onto the landing of the main staircase. Someone was moving down the stone steps, quickly and furtively. They were wearing a thick, dark travelling cloak, despite the fact that it was quite a warm spring day. The hood was not drawn up, however so Remus had a clear view of Professor Winyard as he stepped quickly down the stairs.  
Remus watched him go. Wasn’t he supposed to be in London? Had he returned? But surely Dumbledore would have known? So, what was he doing now? Remus moved onto the landing and watched as Winyard descended the stairs all the way to the Entrance Hall and then head for the main doors.  
‘Lupin!’ The sound of his name had Remus spinning around, but it was only Sirius and James, followed closely by Peter. James was grinning.  
‘You’re back,’ he said, ‘sorry we couldn’t talk in McGonagall’s. Me and Sirius got caught turning Snivellus’s pencil case into a venomous tarantula.’  
‘Nearly had him too,’ said Sirius, grinning evilly, ‘Shame. Would’ve been funny to see how loud the greasy git could scream.’   
‘What are you doing here?’ Peter asked, looking around.  
By way of answer, Remus pointed down to where Professor Winyard could just be seen leaving through the great wooden doors. Sirius squinted.  
‘Who’s that?’ he asked.  
‘It's Professor Winyard,’ Remus answered. The other three boys looked at him confused.  
‘But he’s been off all week,’ said James.  
‘I know,’ said Remus.  
‘So, why’s he walking off into the grounds?’ demanded Sirius.  
‘I don’t know,’ said Remus.   
The four of them all looked at each other.  
‘You don’t think…’ said Peter.  
‘This is the night,’ said Sirius, his face looking pale. James turned to Remus.  
‘You think he’s going off to fight Greyback?’  
Remus shrugged, helplessly. It was not as if he could tell them everything he knew.  
‘Should we tell someone?’ Peter squeaked, ‘McGonagall or Dumbledore?’  
James shook his head.  
‘We told the teachers last time and look what happened. They didn’t do anything. We’ve got to do something ourselves.’  
‘What?’ Peter’s squeak was, if possible, even louder this time.  
‘Why do we need to do anything?’ Sirius demanded, looking confused, ‘from the way Greyback was talking, Winyard’s a match for him.’  
‘But if it's just him,’ said James, ‘what if they take him by surprise? Remember Greyback said they were thinking of a way to deal with him. We should go and help.’  
Sirius was also looking incredulous.  
‘What the hell are we supposed to do against a whole pack of werewolves?’ he demanded.  
‘It's not the full moon,’ James said, triumphantly, ‘that was a few days ago.’  
‘Oh well, it’ll be easy then,’ said Sirius, sarcastically, ‘it’ll just be a group of fully trained and probably vicious wizards to deal with. No problem.’  
‘Well we have to do something,’ James snapped.  
‘We follow him,’ said Remus, calmly. The other three looked at him. ‘We follow him and watch. If he needs help then we can come back to the school and tell someone.’  
James was smiling, excitedly. Even Sirius was looking half-convinced. Peter looked worried but determined not be left behind.  
‘Alright,’ said James, ‘I’ve got a plan.’   
It was only a little while later that Remus found himself running through the grounds with the other three in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. James had run back to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve his invisibility cloak and then they were away. There was no chance of stealing brooms this time, Patricia had been told she wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near it again until the following year, so they went on foot and hoped that the cloak would be enough to hide them from anything really nasty.  
‘It’ll take us ages though, won’t it?’ complained Peter as he puffed and panted to keep up with the other three. Sirius shook his head.  
‘I made sure to remember where it was last time,’ he said, ‘I reckon I can get us there pretty quickly.’  
Soon they were under the canopy of the forest, the overhead foliage quickly shutting them off from the dim light of the evening.  
As they moved through the trees, Remus wished he knew the Lumos charm so they would be able to light their way. As it was, they were forced to move carefully between the trees in the apparently permanent semi-darkness, being sure not to catch a foot on the enormous tree roots that twisted and wound their way through the ground underfoot.   
Remus was being so careful to avoid tripping, that he almost didn’t notice when a hand suddenly reached out of the gloom and grabbed him by the front of his robes.   
Remus let out a yelp as he was hauled off his feet and slammed against a tree, the glowing tip of a wand suddenly appearing inches away from his face.  
‘Lupin?’   
A familiar voice came from the darkness in front of him. Remus blinked and was able to make out the face of Professor Winyard in the gloom.   
‘What the hell are you boys doing here?’ Winyard spat, sounding equal parts incredulous and worried.  
James, Sirius and Peter seemed to melt out of the surrounding darkness, illuminated by Winyard’s wand light.  
‘We saw you coming out to the forest,’ said James, who seemed to be doing his best to keep his voice to a minimal volume, ‘we thought you might want some help.’  
Winyard looked at him, appearing incredulous.  
‘No offence, boys,’ he said, ‘but what help did you think you’d be able to give me? You’re eleven years old!’   
‘We do know some magic,’ James protested, ‘and you don’t know, you might need another set of eyes to keep a lookout for you.’  
It seemed like a flimsy argument to Remus. He was expecting Winyard to tell them to turn around and go back to the castle. But, to his astonishment, he seemed to be considering what James said.  
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose a few extra pairs of eyes would be useful, and I suppose if I try and send you back there’s nothing to stop you following after me when I have my back turned. Alright, you can come with me. But you have to promise me that you’ll do as I tell you. If I tell you to run or hide, then you do it, no questions, no hesitation. Am I clear?’  
Remus looked around. The other three were nodding. He joined in. Winyard seemed to accept that and let Remus down, gesturing at them to follow him.   
James, Sirius and Peter seemed to take this as a good sign. If they were with Winyard, after all, how could anything bad happen to them? Remus, however, wasn’t so sure. Something felt wrong to him in a way he couldn’t quite put a finger on. And why was Winyard doing this alone? Without backup, without even telling Dumbledore?  
They went cautiously through the forest, Winyard’s wand light lighting their way, all of them on the lookout for any stirring in the shadows that might indicate something nasty.   
They had been walking for, Remus guessed, about twenty minutes when Professor Winyard held up his hand. The four boys came to a halt, Peter accidently bumping into Remus’s back.   
‘There’s something out there,’ Winyard whispered before he extinguished his wand. Remus blinked in the sudden darkness, unable to make out anything. Then, as his eyes adjusted, he fancied he could make out something. A very large something, moving ponderously across their path just ahead.  
‘What do we do?’ Sirius whispered.  
‘We hold here and wait,’ said Winyard, ‘all being well, it’ll just ignore us and move on.’  
‘But what is it?’ Peter asked, his voice barely audible.  
Winyard shrugged.   
‘No idea,’ he said, ‘there’s plenty of things in here that even Hagrid doesn’t know about. And he’s in here quite often.’  
Remus was so busy looking ahead, watching the hulking whatever-it-was lumber off that he hardly felt something curl around his ankle. By the time he did feel it and look down, it was too late. With a yelp, he was dragged off his feet and into the air. A horrified squeak let him know that Peter had also been snagged.   
Remus heard Winyard’s curses. There was a burst of light which illuminated all the surrounding area and Remus was able to see what had hold of him and Peter. He almost screamed.   
It was a giant plant. As tall and as wide as a tree, but a sickly green colour with pulsating veins running up and down its length. It had no flowers or leaves but it instead ended in a wide, wet opening, rimmed with long, pointed spines. Long, tentacle-like vines grew out at various points along its trunk and it was two of these that had hold of him and Peter.  
The gaping, tooth rimmed chasm opened wider, like a mouth about to receive a meal and Remus had no doubt what that meal would be. Peter seemed to be terrified to the point of near catatonia. Flashes and sparks were now erupting all around him and the plant. Remus could tell where they were coming from, only that with each small explosion of colour, the vines whipped more wildly, taking him and Peter away from the mouth.   
He felt the vine holding him go slack and then he was falling. He screamed but he slowed down, alighting on the ground almost delicately. Peter right beside him.   
‘Come on,’ Winyard called at them, ‘it won’t stay confused long.’  
They ran together, the four boys following the teacher as he led them through the trees, no longer worried about what might lie ahead, just making sure to put as much distance between them and the plant as possible.  
They finally stopped to catch their breath. Peter was clutching a stitch in his side. Hardly surprising, he had run faster than any of them.  
‘What the hell was that?’ James gasped.  
‘A Pluto’s Maw,’ Winyard answered. He was not out of breath at all and was looking all around and about them. ‘Carnivorous plants. They catch their prey by sensing heat, that’s why I was having you two cast sparks, to confuse it so I could sever the vines.’  
Coming to terms with the fact he might have been eaten by a plant, Remus was only just able to get out a thank you before Winyard was moving again, leading them further into the forest.  
‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, brusquely, ‘now come on, it’s just over there.’  
Looking around, Remus knew Winyard was right. This part of the forest did look familiar. Just through those trees, he knew, was the clearing where the Whomping Willow stood. He was becoming nervous, even more so than he had been upon entering the forest. Glancing at his friends, he saw that Sirius and James were looking fixedly ahead. Peter looked scared but determined not to be left behind.  
‘So, what…’ Remus had been about to ask what Winyard wanted them to do but he was cut short.  
‘Flipendo!’   
He, James, Sirius and Peter were catapulted forward, through the branches and into the clearing where they fell, sprawling top the ground. Remus looked up and felt his guts turn to ice.   
There were, perhaps, two dozen men and women standing there, all looking grim and grubby and desperate. In their midst stood Fenrir Greyback.  
‘You brought him with you,’ his rasping voice sounded displeased.  
‘Didn’t have much choice,’ the reply came from behind them, ‘they followed me into the forest.’  
Greyback grunted.  
‘Well I guess it's easier than trying to grab him later,’ he said. But Remus was barely listening. He had turned his head behind to watch as Professor Winyard walked, calmly, out of the darkness to join the werewolves in the clearing.  
At least, he watched the man who looked like Professor Winyard. For Remus now realised what had been off. It was the smell. Winyard did not smell the way he usually did, the rank smell of an enemy.   
He smells like a wolf from another pack, Remus found himself thinking. Not a friend but not an enemy, someone who can be worked with.  
‘Sort yourself out, will you,’ Greyback snarled, ‘looking at that face turns my bloody stomach.’  
Winyard smirked.  
‘If it bothers you,’ he shrugged. And his face changed, shifted. The four boys watched, open mouthed, unable to believe what they were seeing.  
The man they had followed into the forest looked down at them and smiled.  
‘You didn’t think Able was the only one, did you?’


	17. The Altar and the Wolf

Professor Keythorpe stepped past them and strode to where most of the werewolves were gathered.  
‘Are we ready to proceed?’  
Greyback nodded.  
‘We were just waiting on you,’ he growled, ‘we’ve frozen the damn tree but we need you to get rid of the protective enchantments.’  
‘Excellent,’ Keythorpe smiled, ‘we’ll be out of here before Dumbledore even knows what’s happening. The Dark Lord will be pleased.’  
Greyback snorted with contempt.  
‘Dumbledore,’ he jeered, ‘if he was going to do anything, he would have done something by now, wouldn’t he.’  
‘What the hell’s going on?’ James shouted in frustration. He had got to his feet and was helping Sirius pull Peter upright. Remus hadn’t moved, he did not think he could. He was too frozen by horror. They were going to take the altar.  
Keythorpe turned a contemptuous glare down on him.  
‘Shut up, Potter,’ he snapped, ‘this doesn’t concern you.’  
‘We don’t need all of them, do we?’ Greyback leered, his eyes moving over the four boys, lingering on Remus longer than the rest, ‘one will be enough to make sure the Altar works.’  
Keythorpe’s wand was in his hand. He was not, precisely, pointing it at Greyback, more indicating that he could if he wanted to.  
‘You can put that thought out of your head now,’ he said, ‘the Dark Lord wishes to avoid any magical bloodshed,’ he looked back at James and his lip curled, ‘even with such as this.’  
Greyback glowered but seemed cowed.  
‘Not like it’ll matter in the end,’ he said, darkly before moving off to join the rest of the werewolves, who were now digging at the dirt at the base of the Willow.  
Keythorpe watched them go with an expression that seemed satisfied.   
‘Winyard is dead, isn’t he?’  
It had been Remus who had spoken. It was as if seeing Winyard turn into Keythorpe had joined the dots in his head. Why Winyard would just leave when he would have known the altar was vulnerable. Because he hadn’t left at all. Keythorpe turned to regard him, like he had seen a somewhat interesting picture on display.  
‘But of course,’ he said, ‘I killed him last week. A simple job, as it turned out. Able was always on guard for attack or for deception but he never checked what he was drinking too carefully. And Horace had so many poisons to hand. A shame, really. Able Winyard was a great wizard, second to very few.’  
‘And then you turned into him to tell Dumbledore that the Ministry wanted you in London?’  
‘Very good, Lupin, very good,’ said Keythorpe, sounding as if Remus had given a good answer in class, ‘those who believe in the Dark Lord’s teachings have been rioting across the city and the Ministry has been calling in anyone they can to help. Fortuitous timing really, I doubt I would have been able to keep up the ruse for long otherwise.’  
‘Who is the Dark Lord?’ Sirius demanded, putting a good bit of contempt into the way he said the title.  
Keythorpe cocked an eyebrow at him.  
‘Why, Lord Voldemort of course,’ he said, ‘I’m surprised you don’t know, Black. Your family has been one of his most vocal supporters.’  
‘I didn’t know he was calling himself the Dark Lord now,’ Sirius muttered.  
‘Voldemort?’ James said, incredulously, ‘that nutter who wants to take over the world or something?’ He began laughing. ‘He’s the Dark Lord? You’re doing what he tells you?’  
In a flash, Keythorpe’s wand was at James’s throat.  
‘You do not speak his name,’ he spat. He had seemed so calm before, but in an instant he had changed completely. His eyes were bulging, spit flew from his lips as he spoke. He looked angrier than Remus had ever seen anyone. ‘You are not worthy to speak his name, you filthy blood traitor!’  
James glared right back, defiantly. Remus’s mind was reeling. Greyback had told him Keythorpe was just trying to help the werewolves, he had made it sound like they were fooling him into helping them. He looked over and caught Greyback’s eye. Greyback seemed to read his thoughts on his face. He grinned. And Remus understood.   
Greyback had lied. Well that should not have come as any great surprise.  
‘My mum says that Voldemort seems like a complete prat,’ Peter piped up. He seemed to have taken some measure of courage from James’s defiance because he too was now looking up into Keythorpe’s face, seeming unafraid, ‘and I…’   
He got no further.  
Keythorpe whipped his wand around to point it at Peter.  
‘Crucio!’   
Peter fell to the floor, his back arching, screaming louder than Remus would have believed possible.  
‘Oi!’ one of the werewolves shouted over Peter’s screams, ‘we’re trying to go undetected here! You want to tell the whole forest where we are?’   
Keythorpe lifted his wand and Peter stopped screaming. He lay still, panting, his face ashen in the light cast by Keythorpe’s wand.   
‘You will learn respect,’ said Keythorpe, his voice heavy with anger, ‘You will learn your place. If I have to teach you again and again, you will learn.’  
Remus scrabbled to help Peter up. His eyes were wide as dinner plates. James too was trying to help. Sirius, however, just stood there. His eyes almost as wide as Peter’s. He stared at Keythorpe.  
‘That was an Unforgivable Curse,’ he said, his voice barely rising above a whisper.  
‘In the pursuit of a pure society,’ Keythorpe said, grandly, ‘all things are forgivable.’  
All four boys were on their feet now, all four staring at Keythorpe. Keythorpe stared back, his wand held threateningly.  
‘I’d rather not kill you,’ he said, ‘but I will, if I must. Now, be good boys and go stand over there until I tell you otherwise.’  
Remus looked at the others. Peter seemed hardly aware of what was happening. James and Sirius were looking at each other. They both nodded. They then began walking to where Keythorpe was pointing, supporting Peter between them, Remus following behind them.  
‘What do you even want with the altar?’ James asked as they walked, ‘if you want to make yourself a werewolf, I’m sure this lot will do the job.’  
A few cackles and barks of laughter met this. Keythorpe also smiled.  
‘I’m sure they would,’ he said, ‘but that is not my intention.’  
Keythorpe then told them what Greyback had told him. As he did so, Remus caught Greyback’s eye again. This time he could read the expression on his face.  
I knew you wouldn’t tell them, it said, and I know why you didn’t. And you’re going to do what I say, or I will tell them.   
But he had told someone, Remus thought to himself, trying to bolster his spirits, he had told Dumbledore.  
His friends were looking just as horrified as Remus had felt when he’d first heard the plan. Keythorpe appeared unconcerned.  
‘Winyard was the only real obstacle in my way,’ he said, ‘and now, well now he’s no longer an issue.’  
‘Here it is!’ A call of triumph went up from the crowd by the Whomping Willow. Keythorpe turned to look, as did Remus, James, Sirius and, with some effort, Peter.  
The werewolves had had to dig quite a way down, by the look of things. Several of them were climbing out of the hole they had made.   
‘Don’t touch it,’ Greyback shouted, ‘it's magically protected, remember.’ He looked over at Keythorpe. ‘Time for you to do your bit.’   
Keythorpe smiled and nodded, making his way over to the Whomping Willow.  
‘There’s still Dumbledore,’ James spat, looking disgusted, ‘he’ll stop you.’  
Keythorpe stopped a moment, looked back at him and snorted.  
‘Dumbledore’s had all year to stop me,’ he said, dismissively, ‘he’s gone soft in his old age. He didn’t even know I’m a metamorphmagus. I wouldn’t count on him to come to your rescue, if I were you.’  
He strode away.  
‘He’s right,’ grunted Sirius. The other three looked at him. ‘We don’t know if anyone’s coming. We’re going to have to do something ourselves.’  
‘Like what?’ James asked. He was looking at the crowd over by the tree. Despite his earlier bravado, Remus could tell he was in no hurry to face so many full-grown adults at once. Peter was looking similarly fearful.  
‘I might have an idea,’ Remus said slowly. He too was watching the crowd. Keythorpe was whipping his wand in a circular motion causing thin threads of light to flow down into the hole. Clearly attempting to undo the protective enchantments that had kept the altar protected for so many years.  
The other three looked at him.  
‘What?’ asked James. Remus was not sure how to word it.   
He had read all the way through Winyard’s journal before he had put it back and had studied the notes he had taken again and again and again. He remembered reading that the altar could only be picked up by a werewolf. Keythorpe himself had said that it required someone with Greyback’s “gift”, no doubt meaning a werewolf. But how could they get at the altar. And then what could they do with it?  
‘It’s done,’ Keythorpe proclaimed and the members of Greyback’s pack jumped into the hole again.  
‘What is it?’ James asked again, sounding panicked.  
They would need some kind of distraction anyway, Remus thought. It wouldn’t work.  
‘Is that it?’ said Greyback.   
The tone of his voice had all four boys turning to stare.   
Something was being held up out of the hole. Held up by one grubby hand belonging to someone out of sight.  
‘It’s all that’s down here,’ a voice said.   
Remus stared. That was it. The Altar of the Moon.   
It looked like nothing more than a small wooden block, about the size of a large textbook. Carved into the stone was what looked like a chalice with a long stem and a deep bowl. It looked like there was more but Remus could not see from this distance.  
‘That’s it, alright,’ Keythorpe said, excitedly, ‘take it, Greyback. We have to get this back to the Dark Lord.’  
‘Lupin!’ Sirius snapped, ‘we need to do something, now!’  
Apparently, someone else was thinking the same way.   
A jet of red light shot from out of the forest and caught the werewolf holding the altar in the chest. The man let out a grunt then toppled over, the altar thudding heavily into the dirt as he vanished from sight.  
For a second, there was a stunned silence. Then everything became chaos. Robed figures emerged from the surrounding forest, casting jets of red and silver light into the crowd of werewolves.  
Not all werewolves were witches or wizards, Remus knew. Muggles were victims of werewolf attacks too so it did not come as much of a surprise when he saw that not all of Greyback’s pack had wands of their own. Those that did had them out in a flash and were firing back while those that didn’t charged forward, tackling the new arrivals to the ground to claw at them or lay into them with fists.  
Remus looked over at the hole. The altar had just been left on the ground. Greyback and his allies were too busy fighting. He doubted they would get a better opportunity than this.  
‘Run!’ he shouted at his friends, and he charged for the altar, not even pausing to check if they had followed his instructions. Dodging and ducking around the werewolves shooting off spells, he reached the altar and snatched it up. It was certainly heavy, but not too heavy and Remus turned to sprint back the way he’d come.  
As he did so, he saw that his friends had indeed started running, but instead of into the trees like he’d meant, they were following after him, all three with their wands out.  
‘Let’s go!’ shouted James.  
At his voice, several of those around them noticed what they were doing. One of the werewolves stopped shooting off curses to make a grab at him but had taken his attention away from his opponent at just the wrong moment. A jet of fiery orange light lifted him into the air and threw him against the trunk of the Whomping Willow, and he did not get up.  
Remus ran. He thought he heard someone calling his name but he did not waste time looking, he focussed on putting as much space between him and the clearing as he could. Two or three more of Greyback’s pack were moving to intercept them.  
‘Locomotor Mortis!’   
‘Petrificus Totalus!’   
Two of the werewolves toppled to the ground. The one hit by James’s leg-locker curse trying to claw towards them despite his now useless legs while the one who’d been hit with Sirius’s full body-bind could only watch as they went past, her eyes filled with hatred.  
A third werewolf was now in front of them. He snarled, showing a mouth full of teeth that looked like they had been filed to points.  
‘Incendio Tenebris!’ Peter’s voice was shrill as he caught up with the other three and pointed his wand at the werewolf. There was a snap and crack and suddenly the hem of the werewolf’s robes was engulfed in purple fire. The man yelped and began to swat desperately at the flames allowing the four boys to run past.  
‘Which way do we go?’ barked Sirius over the noise back in the clearing. It had got even louder. There was a creaking sound of moving wood and sounds like a whip. If Remus were to guess, he reckoned that the Whomping Willow had come to life again.  
All for the good, he thought.  
‘This way!’ James said, pointing off into the gloom. Remus had no idea if that was right but he was not about to second guess him. He’d glanced back to see four more werewolves running after them. One of whom was Greyback himself.  
Before he knew what he was doing, Remus’s own wand was in his hand and he was pointing it back at them, the altar held under his other arm.  
‘Locomotor Wibbly!’   
The Jelly-legs jinx was not, perhaps, the most powerful spell in the world, yet it was none the less effective. Remus had been aiming for Greyback but, in his haste, the spell missed by inches. It caught one of the other werewolves who flopped forward on his suddenly rubbery legs, the momentum of his running causing him to gouge a furrow in the dirt with his forehead before lying still.  
The other three dodged behind trees. Remus turned and chased after the others.  
The problem was, they had no light this time. The thick canopy of the forest meant it was dark even in the middle of the day. And by now, the sun had well and truly set.  
Remus was barely able to make out his hand in front of his face, never mind see Peter, James and Sirius. He soon found himself quite alone.  
He stopped running and looked around. Nothing. Nothing but darkness. He was alone, he did not know how to produce light, and he was in the Forbidden Forest, possibly surrounded by monsters and dangerous plants. If he were not so terrified, Remus thought he would probably scream.  
He could still hear noises, still see faint flashes of light, but they were from the clearing, exactly the opposite direction of where he wanted to go. He knew he had to get away but was terrified of going any further in case he ran afoul of something worse.  
He heard the something then. The steady, unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. Remus gripped his wand tightly and fastened his fingers around the edge of the altar. Maybe he would have to fight, but at least it would just be a man. Better that than the Pluto’s Maw.  
A wand tip ignited into light. Remus felt his heart sink into his shoes. Come to think of it, maybe the Pluto’s Maw wouldn’t have been so bad.  
Fenrir Greyback loomed out of the forest gloom like something out of a nightmare. His gaunt, rangy face was creased into an unpleasant smile.   
‘Poor little Lupin, lost in the woods,’ he almost purred. His eyes moved down to the altar. ‘Why don’t you give that to me and we can get out of here. I wasn’t lying about that part, you know. There is a place for you with us. It's where you belong.’  
Bizarrely, Remus was tempted. He knew what Greyback planned to do with the altar was wrong, evil; but there was a part of him that wanted to go with him, to be with people like him, to belong, to be part of the pack.  
‘Lupin?’ A voice called out from somewhere behind him. It sounded like James. ‘Lupin, where are you?’   
Remus heard the other two, Sirius and Peter, calling for him too. He shook the feeling away and stepped back, wand raised. He had a pack already and this man, this monster, was going to try to hurt them. The smell he had smelled the first time he had seen Greyback, and the time in the Hogsmeade shack, the smell of one to be respected, of a beloved leader, changed. It became rank, hateful, the smell of an enemy.   
Greyback must have seen the look in his eyes because the smile turned into a bestial snarl.  
‘You dare defy me?’ his voice rasped with pure rage. ‘I made you, whelp. You belong to me!’   
‘I do not!’ Remus spat back, trying to sound a lot braver than he felt. In truth, his legs were shaking so much he did not think he would be able to stand much longer.  
Greyback took a step towards him.   
‘Well, in that case,’ he said, his lips curling back to reveal more teeth, ‘there’s no need to keep you alive. We can use your blood for the ritual. All of it. Right here, right now. Those friends of yours can be the first turned. Maybe they’ll show more loyalty.’  
Remus gritted his teeth, determined to hold his ground. Greyback looked more a wolf than Remus could have ever believed, a wolf ready to pounce.   
Then there was a flash of crimson light. Greyback stopped, appearing frozen, then he fell, his body thudding into the ground.  
‘Didn’t I tell you to leave this to us?’   
A calm, familiar voice spoke from out of the gloom. Remus could not believe it.  
Professor Winyard strode out into the faint light of Greyback’s still lit wand, lighting his own as he came. Remus really did not believe it. He had seen Professor Keythorpe pretend to be Winyard already, he was not about to be fooled again. He raised his own wand.   
‘It’s really him, Remus.’   
Remus whipped around. Dumbledore was walking towards them, smiling a small smile.  
Tentatively, Remus lowered his wand. It was hard to believe Keythorpe would have yet another metamorphmagus with him. They were supposed to be incredibly rare.  
Another wizard was coming towards them, this one Remus did not know.  
‘We’ve found the other boys,’ he said, ‘they’re being escorted up to your office, Headmaster.’  
‘Excellent,’ said Dumbledore, ‘I assume I can trust you to finish things off here, Professor Winyard?’  
‘Absolutely, Dumbledore,’ Winyard said, brusquely, ‘we’ve got this in hand.’  
*  
The journey back to the castle passed in a haze. Remus was so relieved that Keythorpe and Greyback had been stopped that he barely noticed as he was led through the forest, through the grounds, up the steps to the castle and all the way up to the Headmaster’s study.  
James, Sirius and Peter were waiting for them there. So too was Professor McGonagall.  
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she gasped, in a rare display of affection before she was back to her usual self. ‘What did you think you were playing at? You could have all been killed!’  
‘Minerva,’ Dumbledore tried to cut in, but Professor McGonagall did not seem to notice.  
‘I’d expect this kind of irresponsible behaviour from Black and Potter, and I’m not surprised at you, Pettigrew, for going along with this stupidity, but you, Lupin, I thought you had more sense!’   
‘Minerva,’ said Dumbledore, a little more sharply, ‘that will do. I’d say these boys have been through enough of a punishment.’   
It was not clear if Professor McGonagall agreed or disagreed but she held her tongue and stepped around behind Dumbledore’s desk. Dumbledore gestured at the clear space on his desk.  
‘Mister Lupin, if you would be so kind?’   
Remus, his arms now growing sore from carrying the stone block, stepped forward to place the altar on the desk. The ancient, well-worn stone made a dull clunk as it was put down. Remus backed away from it, though he was unable to take his eye from it. The chalice was the most obvious feature of it but Remus could also see engravings of men and wolves, and of men becoming wolves. And it was all covered by interweaving lines of runes that looped and overlapped and criss-crossed all over.  
Dumbledore leaned closer to it. There was a curious expression on his face, one of mixed reverence and fear, like a man come face to face with a tiger.  
‘Professor,’ Sirius said, breaking the tension in the room, ‘I was wondering if we could ask about what happened tonight?’  
Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing look that was very familiar to Remus.  
‘I suppose you may,’ he said, ‘I’d say your actions tonight have earned you the truth, despite doing what I know Professor Winyard expressly told you not to do.’  
‘Well that’s the first thing,’ said James, stepping up beside Sirius, ‘I thought Winyard was dead. Keythorpe said he killed him.’  
‘That’s Professor Winyard, Mister Potter,’ said Dumbledore, ‘and that is no doubt what Harrel Keythorpe believed himself. He did try to poison Professor Winyard. Fortunately, Able has a lot of experience with poisons and so knew what had been put in his pumpkin juice immediately. But he thought it would be an excellent opportunity to move against him.’ He turned to Professor McGonagall. ‘Would you care to explain the Corpus Geminus spell, Minerva?’  
Professor McGonagall nodded.  
‘A very complex bit of transfiguration,’ she began, ‘if correctly performed, it will create an exact replica of the caster’s body. That body will be lifeless, of course, magic cannot create life. But if you were trying to fake your death, as Able was, that wouldn’t be a problem. I would guess when Harrel found Able’s replica, he assumed his poisoning plan had worked and transfigured the body into something else in order to hide it. Meanwhile the real Able Winyard was free to leave for London to gather agents from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.’  
‘Quite so,’ Dumbledore nodded before turning back to the four boys.  
‘I told you, Remus, that before we could move against Harrel, we would need irrefutable evidence. Well I would say tonight was enough. Professor Winyard knew that with him out of the way, Harrel and Greyback would make their move.’ His eyes crinkled as he smiled at them. ‘Which is why we didn’t want you to get involved. Though perhaps I am partially to blame. I do sometimes forget the fiery temper and insistence to act that comes with youth.’  
Remus felt embarrassed. Of course, Dumbledore and Winyard had had a plan. How could he have doubted it?  
‘Professor Keythorpe said he was working for that guy Voldemort,’ said James. Remus saw Peter twitch at the name.  
Dumbledore frowned.  
‘Yes, that would seem to be the case. I had hoped that Harrel was helping Greyback and his followers out of sympathy,’ he glanced at Remus, ‘all his years working here, he gave no hint that he was a blood purist. But there it is. He and the werewolves have been taken into custody. I imagine it will be Azkaban for them.’  
A shudder ran through the room at the mention of the prison.   
‘What will happen to the Altar now, sir?’ Remus asked, keen to change the subject.   
Dumbledore heaved a sigh.  
‘I believe it will have to be destroyed,’ he said, ‘It is a shame. Despite what it does, the Altar is a piece of wizarding history, from a time when magic was new in the world and at its rawest and most powerful. There are so few of the ancient Altars left and there is so much we could learn from them. But today’s events have demonstrated that it is just too dangerous to be left.’  
Remus did not see it as a shame at all.  
‘Right, well,’ said Dumbledore, ‘I’d say that’s quite enough excitement for tonight. Professor McGonagall will escort you back to your dormitory. Remus, if I could have a quick word before you go?’  
Remus felt himself go cold. What could Dumbledore want with just him? To tell him he had broken his trust and would be expelled immediately? Remus held his breath.  
‘While I am disappointed that you did not follow my instructions,’ Dumbledore began after everyone else had left the office, ‘I cannot help but be impressed and a little proud of how you handled everything tonight. Not the least, with Greyback. I do not know much about werewolves, I must admit, but it must have been tempting to take his offer. To be with people just like yourself, not having to hide what you are anymore, it must have been hard to refuse.’  
Remus thought back to how he had felt in that moment. How he had thought of his friends.  
‘Not really, sir,’ he said, softly, smiling to himself, ‘it was pretty easy, actually.’  
Dumbledore smiled.  
*  
The rest of the year passed rather uneventfully. The exams came and went and all four of them passed, though Peter only narrowly. The final Quidditch matches were played; Gryffindor, apparently overconfident after their match with Hufflepuff, lost to Ravenclaw by nearly two hundred points leaving them third in the league. Slytherin won overall but not by enough to beat Ravenclaw in house points, meaning that the End of Year Feast was decorated in the Ravenclaw colours of Blue and Bronze.  
It was disappointing but, as James said, at least Slytherin hadn’t won either.   
No one in the school knew what had happened in the forest, about the Altar of the Moon, or any of it. Professor McGonagall had told them, when they had asked, that the Ministry wanted that whole business kept quiet.  
At the feast, Dumbledore said that Professor Keythorpe had left due to ill health. Professor Winyard had also left, to return to work with the Department of Magical Law enforcement. An announcement that Remus and the other three thought of as ominous.  
No one else seemed to think so.   
The following day as they were walking to the train station, the air was full of happy conversations and slightly teary goodbyes.  
‘You’ll have to come visit over the summer,’ said James, enthusiastically, ‘all three of you. There’s plenty of space in my house, mum and dad won’t mind.’  
‘I’ll take any excuse to get out of my place for a while,’ said Sirius, sourly. He did not seem at all enthused about returning home.   
The sound of footsteps behind them made him turn. Lily and Snape were making their way together towards the station. She smiled at Remus while Snape sneered. Both of them pointedly ignored Sirius and James.  
‘Have a good summer, Lupin,’ said Lily, brightly. Remus smiled back.  
‘You too,’ Remus smiled.   
Lily and Snape walked off. Sirius caught Snape’s foot with his own as he went past.  
‘See ya, Snivelly,’ he said, grinning evilly.   
Snape turned to regard Sirius with a look of deepest loathing before he turned and followed after Lily.  
James watched them go, the unmistakable look of mischief in his eyes.  
‘You still got that Detonation Dart, Lupin?’ he asked, his voice dripping with evil intent.  
‘Yes,’ Remus said, not knowing whether to feel amused or worried.  
‘Excellent,’ said James, ‘we’ve got a long trip back to London and I owe Snivellus for that vomiting curse the other day. Let’s go.’  
James led the way after Lily and Snape, Sirius and Peter following close behind. Remus smiled as he watched them go.  
It couldn’t last. He knew that. One day, they would find out about him. It was only a matter of time. And on that day, they would no doubt be horrified and disgusted and would never want to see or speak to him again.   
But not today. Not now. For now, they knew nothing. For now, he could carry on pretending he was just a normal boy making plans with his friends before returning home. Remus smiled. For now, life was good.


End file.
